


Lost Child

by zabjade



Series: Far to Go [15]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: While back in Sunnydale for a brief visit with her parents, Willow tries to reconnect with the friends she betrayed. But before she can even reclaim any of what she's lost, an unfortunate turn of events forces her and Buffy to work together to rescue the people they love... and one that they hate. Can the friendship they had ever heal, or is what was lost doomed to never be found?





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t a bad life, really.

Willow was learning a lot, including the most efficient ways to use the trickle of magic she was allowed each day. She was able to spend most of her time studying and writing papers and stuff, which she’d always liked. She even had her own little suite, basically, with a bedroom, sitting room full of books, and a bathroom, complete with shower and a nice bath. And most of her food was even delivered to her. Shoved right through the slot in the locked-from-the-outside and magically reinforced door.

Willow gave that door a resigned look from her comfy recliner. It would open soon, and she’d be taken to her weekly therapy to deal with the loss of the lower part of her left arm. On non-therapy days, she got to walk out in the garden or visit the greenhouse if the weather was bad. Then she’d be brought back to what was basically her jail cell to wait until it was time for the magic and ethics class with other learning witches.

If not for the locked door…. If not for the spell that gave her a nasty shock and drained her magic if she used too much…. If not for how she was used as an example of what _not_ to do in regards to magical ethics…. If not for the fact that no one other than her parents and Spike would take her calls…. It would have been a wonderful experience. Like being selected to go to Hogwarts, or something.

 _Except I don’t have a Harry and Ron to go on adventures with._ Not anymore. Not like back in Sunnydale. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of Sunnydale and the mess she’d left behind. It was hard, considering she’d be getting on a plane to the place tomorrow for a supervised visit with her parents. The pair of coven witches escorting her were also going to try to do something for Amy. At least that was one failure of hers that would hopefully be salvaged. As for her friends….

She hadn’t told Spike about the trip. He was her only link to the rest of them, but when she asked, all he would ever say was that everyone was “fine” or sometimes “right as rain” when he wasn’t too annoyed with her. When he was pissed off, all she’d get was that if they’d wanted her to know how they were, they’d “bloody well” tell her themselves, wouldn’t they?

Willow took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She’d messed up big time, but Buffy and Xander had been her best friends. Especially Xander. She wanted to see them again, at least once. A frightened part of her wondered if she’d even recognize them, but she shook the thought away. She’d only been away for about nine months or so. Not much could really change in that amount of time. Right?

 

**...**

 

The warm glide of her skin against his, her strong hands circling and rubbing, fingers squeezing with just enough pressure to skirt the exquisite edge of pleasure and pain. Spike couldn’t hold back a low moan, body arching, head tilting back as his eyes fluttered closed with mind-numbing bliss.

“Oh, jeez, get a room you two,” Dawn complained from the kitchen, voice practically dripping with an exasperated eye roll.

“Wow, gutter-mind much?” Buffy shot back without slowing or pausing the foot massage.

She was sat at one end of the couch with his feet propped in her lap, working out the aches and swelling. Also giving his nails a fresh coat of black varnish. Seeing as how he was the equivalent of seven months along with their second sprog, he couldn’t even bloody _see_ his toes most the time, much less do anything with them, so her help there was much appreciated.

They’d gone off for a bit of a patrol once the sun had set around six. Normally, they’d join Joyce and Dawn for some grub, then just hang about for a couple of hours with Thursday before Buffy went on a solo patrol. Tonight was different though, on account of all of the non-infant Summers women being involved in Anya’s bridal shower.

At Ben’s suggestion, Xander had been going to a group meeting for the families of alcoholics. After a few months of it, he’d got up the confidence and courage to pop Anya the question. And while his lady love was being showered in gifts, he would be spending the evening at Chateau Summers with Spike, Giles, and Thursday, who had been jokingly declared an honorary boy for Boys’ Night In.

The itty bitty herself was sitting about on one of her blankets, making adorable growly noises at her stuffed toys. “Having fun then, are we, kitten?” he asked.

“Dada!” Thursday chirped, carefully getting up to her feet and toddling over to him.

God, but she was growing fast, wasn’t she? Seemed like she should still be naught but a crawly little sprog, but she’d had her first birthday just last week. She was able to walk about a bit now and say a few words. Next thing, she’d be running all willy-nilly and nattering on in full sentences. Then there would be boyfriends — or possibly girlfriends. He was an open-minded sort of bloke — and he’d have to eat them. Or, well, maybe not. Bloody soul twinged a bit at that thought and some of his nightmares stirred in his subconscious. He pushed them back, focusing on the idea of scaring the sodding crap out anyone wanting to date his little girl before she was at least sixty.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Thursday slapping her little hand against his belly and giggling when it woke Aliena enough to start kicking. “Hihi!” she called out, slapping again.

 _Thank god for baggy sweaters,_ he thought, wincing as he snagged his girl and pulled her up onto the couch. Superpowered baby slaps stung like a wicked bitch against bare skin. Didn’t do a bloody bit of good as protection against the kicks, though. Not that he really minded much. Was a comfort, feeling Aliena moving all about.

“Trying to stage a prison break, are we, love? None of that. This one is serving her full sentence, she is.”

“Darn straight, she is,” Buffy grumbled, giving his foot a gentle squeeze to let him know she was done.

He sat up, scooting closer to her and tucking Thursday in between them. “Mum-uh,” she said happily, wiggling over into Buffy’s lap and gently patting at one of her breasts.

Spike snorted and shook his head. “I see how it is. Stirrin’ up trouble like a little terror and smacking a fella about for fun. But when it comes to filling your belly, turn into a wee, innocent lamb, don’t you?”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Buffy said, giving their baby a kiss on the forehead. “Mama has to go soon. But I pumped, so there will be a nice bottle and some blood for you while I’m gone.”

“Gifts are all wrapped,” Dawn announced, coming out the kitchen with a stack of three presents, her mum right behind her.

“You ready?” Joyce asked.

In answer, Buffy stood up, settling Thursday beside Spike instead of in his lap as he hadn’t much of one at the moment. Then she leaned down to kiss him, her lips warm and firm against his. A simple thing that happened all the bloody time, but he still treasured every bit of simple sweetness between them. The ghosts of his past yammered that he didn’t deserve her or the life he had, but he’d nearly a year of practice shoving them aside. Someone knocking at the door just then helped with it some, too.

Buffy slowly pulled away from the kiss as Xander and Giles came into the house, the former with a stack of four pizza boxes and the latter with a cooler.

“That is a lot of pizza,” she said, eying it dubiously as both stack and cooler were set on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, have you _seen_ how much ‘Aliena’ eats?” Xander asked, actually curling his fingers into air quotes before dropping down on the couch beside Thursday. “Hey there, Daysie. How’s my favorite little independently mobile Slaypire?”

“Xaxa!” Thursday squealed happily, lifting her arms up for a hug. Then she peered around once he was holding her. “Nawa?”

“Nope, not today, kiddo. Auntie Anya is having a party at the Magic Box.”

There was a hustle and bustle of activity as the womenfolk finished getting ready and headed out, leaving the men — and Thursday — to sit about being all manly.

“I brought the proper refreshment,” Giles announced as he sat down. “Modified, of course, for Spike’s current condition.” The cooler was opened, revealing cans of root beer and ginger ale. “The film is ready?”

“Just have to hit play,” Spike said, grabbing up the remote and doing just that.

It struck him, as the opening of Labyrinth started to play, just how much things had changed. Gone from human to vampire in what was basically the blink of an eye. Over a century of that, and then he’d gone from a powerful, murderous fiend to a pathetic excuse for a vampire, at the mercy of anyone human and unable to bite. Laughingstock of the demon world and unwanted by it or the humans he’d got to know. Alone, unwanted. The bad penny that just couldn’t seem to take the hint and shove off, already.

 _And now look at things. Family and friends aplenty._ A peculiar place, the world was. Steady on, and then so much could change in so little time.

“A band I was in opened for David Bowie once….”

Spike settled back with a smile as Rupert launched into his story. It was bloody good to be part of a group, wasn’t it?

...

“… tried the meditation crystals you recommended.”

Buffy couldn’t help the grin as she passed by Tara and Bethany on her way to the punchbowl. They weren’t officially dating yet or anything as far as she knew, but Tara had come to her just a few days before to talk out whether it was taking advantage since she’d basically become the ethics teacher for the UC Sunnydale Wicca group that Bethany was part of. But since it was more peer tutor than teacher and there were no grades, they’d decided it wasn’t an issue. Not like when Riley had pursued Buffy despite being a TA in one of her classes. Something she hadn’t realized was majorly of the ick until Ben had pointed it out to her.

She wrinkled her nose at the memory of Riley and resolutely shoved him out of her mind as she dipped more punch into her cup. It was a really nice little party. There was cake and the punch, and it had all been done up with banners and balloons and everything. They hadn’t wanted to risk getting glitter mixed in with the butterfly wing scales or anything, so it was all happening in her training room. The decorations had been hung thanks to a few members of the Wicca group practicing their magic by levitatign things up into the air. They’d even made a party game out of it, getting blindfolded while Anya called out directions.

It had been pretty fun so far, especially Anya squealing in joy over the gifts. Even the basic little blender Dawn had gotten for her. ‘Cause blenders were a total necessity when getting married. She idly wondered if she and Spike would be given one if they ever decided to get married. They were living with Mom still, and Mom already had a blender. Maybe they’d end up getting their own house if they got married? Buffy frowned and tried to shake the thought away. She was _so_ not ready to think about proposing right now.

The therapy with Ben was helping, but Spike still didn’t have enough confidence in his worth to do something like ask her to marry him. So if someone was going to go all down on one knee and offer a ring, it was going to have to be her. _Might as well be,_ she thought wryly. _I’ve already gotten him pregnant twice. If that doesn’t make me the “man” of the relationship, then I don’t know what does._

She glanced around the training room. Tara and Bethany were still talking quietly. Dawn was hanging out with a couple of the other witches and Anya. And then there were the two vengeance demons that had been invited. She could just make out Hallie talking to Mom about children and justice, and Sera was off in a corner, looking vaguely constipated.

Buffy felt kind of antsy about them, even though they weren’t doing anything wrong. They’d at least promised to do their best to avoid lethal vengeance — or justice — wishes while on her turf. Unless she was just going to slaughter them for coming to a bridal shower for a friend, she was going to have to be content with that. And she was, for the most part. Maybe they’d go on and grant a terrible wish, but wasn’t that ultimately the fault of the wisher?

It was one of the things she’d been working with Ben on a lot, the slayer guilt. She couldn’t be everywhere, and she couldn’t stop everything, even with the Scoobies and the Wicca group helping out. Running herself ragged trying was just going to end up getting her killed. And with the slayer line probably going through Faith now, that meant there wouldn’t be anyone to take her place for a while.

Buffy took a deep breath, then blew it out up towards her hairline. She was at a party. She was supposed to be having fun, not thinking about things like death and Faith. She packed it all away, put on Perky Buffy like a coat, and bounced away from the punchbowl to mingle.

...

There was nothing quite like a late night/early morning drive with one’s partner and child. _Soothes the soul right proper, it does,_ Spike thought, glancing over his shoulder for a moment to look at Thursday in her car seat. Sleeping like the wee babe she was, all full of milk, blood, and pizza crusts. The semi-nightly car ride wasn’t strictly necessary to get the sprog to sleep, but it was a nice little family ritual.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” Buffy murmured sleepily, giving him a gentle poke to the side.

He pulled his attention back to the road in plenty of time to turn onto Revello Drive. As nice as the drive was, would be even nicer to snuggle down into bed with Buffy, holding each other close. There’d be kisses and caresses, and if Thursday didn’t interrupt (sometimes seemed a bloody miracle, that), that could lead on to—

Spike frowned slightly as he eased the DeSoto into the driveway. All the downstairs lights seemed to be on, though he was certain they’d turned most of them off before heading out. Could have just been Joyce or Dawn up and about, but something about it all had his hackles up. He turned off the car and opened the door, letting his eyes fall closed as he took a deep breath through his nose. There was a strange scent lingering about. Something oddly familiar, but he couldn’t quite….

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, all trace of sleep gone from her voice.

“Not sure, but we’ve a visitor, seems like.” He glanced into the backseat again. “Sprog’ll be safest out here, I reckon, until we have a bit of a looksee.”

“Spike….”

“No worries, love. If it’s something dangerous, I’ll scarper. Get Thursday someplace safe.” Much as he hated the idea of running from a fight, he knew he’d need to if there was any real danger. He couldn’t risk getting hurt in a way that could harm Aliena, and worrying about him and the baby would be a distraction for Buffy.

“… Okay.” The agreement wasn’t exactly ringing with enthusiasm, but she wasn’t arguing or threatening him with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. “But if you get hurt, I’m chaining you up in the tub with packing peanuts and bubble wrap.”

He couldn’t help a laugh at that. “Promises, promises,” he teased, getting out of the car and gently closing the door. Didn’t want to wake the sprog or clue in their uninvited guest.

As they approached the door, Spike could hear Joyce’s voice, brimming with anger.

“… you’ve been through a lot, but you can’t stay here! Not after the things you’ve done.”

They burst into the house, Buffy placing herself in front of Spike protectively. Joyce was there, hands on her hips as she glared at—

“Faith.” Barely leashed hate and rage practically dripped from his Slayer.

Faith. A sizzle of fury jolted through his spine at that name. The bitch what had once stolen Buffy’s body and took it for a joy ride. Who had once used Xander like a cheap whore and then tried to rape him. Last he’d heard, she was locked up where she couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. What the bloody hell was she doing free and in their home? Had she heard about Thursday and managed a break out so she could try to ruin Buffy’s life again and take what was hers? He didn’t know what Faith had planned, but she took a step towards Joyce, who flinched away in fear.

“Hey, B. Was in the neighborhood and just thought I’d—”

Spike was moving before he’d even consciously decided what he was going to do, and the woman’s words were cut off by his fist smashing into her face.


	2. Chapter 2

“Faith.”

The name was like poisoned chocolate on Buffy’s tongue. That’s what Faith was. A slow poison injected into her life. She slipped in, and at first, it seemed like something good, even right. Someone fighting by her side with the same abilities and calling. Someone who would maybe understand that undercurrent of darkness and violence always hiding under the surface. But Faith’s undercurrent hadn’t been so under. It had been majorly upper, that current. And now here she was, right in the middle of Buffy’s house, standing way too close to her mother.

Buffy’s fists clenched at her sides as she struggled with the hate and rage boiling through her. The need to lash out at the potential threat to her family was overwhelming. Potential? No, there was nothing _potential_ about Faith when it came to being a threat. Want, take, have. And Faith tended to want the men in Buffy’s life. There was no way Spike would willingly stray – despite her abandonment issues, she _knew_ he wouldn’t – but the other slayer had a history of not really caring about that whole “willingly” thing. She’d proven that with Xander. And with Riley and even Buffy herself when Faith had stolen her body and taken it on an orgasmy joyride.

_Not this time,_ she thought grimly. _Never again._ And this time, there was no Angel to save Faith from what she damn well deserved.

“Hey, B,” the other slayer said with a grin as she took a step towards Mom. “Was in the neighborhood and just thought I’d –”

Buffy tensed, ready to attack, but she didn’t get the chance. Spike moved out from behind her in a flash of leather coat and sexy manskirt. Whatever Faith had “just thought” was buried by a punch to the face.

_Oh god,_ Buffy thought, frozen for a moment in horror. At any other time, she would have enjoyed seeing someone she cared about immediately jumping in against Faith. As a bonus, Spike was a major hottie and watching him fight was a thing of beauty, especially in the kilt and sweater he was wearing right now. But this wasn’t any other time. This was while Spike was carrying their child, leaving both him and the baby vulnerable in what would have otherwise probably have been a fair fight.

“Slipped your leash, huh?” Faith asked, wiping blood from her nose and split lip. “Gettin’ sloppy, B. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of the bad doggie.”

She threw a punch towards Spike, but it didn’t land. While Faith had been languishing in prison, Buffy had been fighting demons and protecting an active Hellmouth. She was faster and she was stronger. She caught the other woman’s fist and squeezed until she heard the satisfying crunch of bone.

“Hardcore,” Faith panted out. “I like it.”

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked, keeping her voice cold and even. She had to stay cold, or she was going to do a lot worse than break a hand. “And why should I send you back to jail instead of crushing your skull like a watermelon?”

She wasn’t bluffing. Not entirely, anyway. There was a part of her that really wanted to do just that.

Instead of fear or excitement or any of the things she might have expected, Faith looked… confused. “Back to jail? Didn’t Angel tell you?”

Angel? Angel was involved in releasing a raping, body-stealing psychopathic murderer from prison and sending her to her house? All without even bothering to call and tell her about it. Never mind the sheer lack of respect that showed towards her, there were _children_ in the house, with another one on the way. And an idiot pregnant vampire without the sense to hold back and keep himself safe.

“Bloody hell,” the idiot vampire in question muttered, drawing more of Buffy’s attention. “What’s Gramps got up to now?”

He could have been hurt. The ritual induced protective instinct was insisting on it. If he and Faith had really gotten into it, he could have been badly hurt and possibly lost the baby. What the hell had he been _thinking_? He should have let her handle things. He should have….

Even though the immediate threat was over, the fear and anger suddenly overwhelmed Buffy. Before she could even realize what she was doing, she turned and punched Spike right in the nose.

 

**...**

 

Dawn focused on putting the kettle on the stove, trying not to think about the fact that Faith was in the house. Kind of hard to do, since that was the entire reason she wasn’t safely up asleep in her attic room. She’d heard some kind of commotion and had worked up the courage to grab a baseball bat and creep down the trapdoor stairs. She’d made it down the main staircase in time to see Buffy punch Spike. He’d immediately hit her back, and then there had been a bunch of shouting until Mom had stepped in.

And now Spike was upstairs putting Thursday to bed while Buffy was sitting on the couch with an icepack for her black eye. And Faith was still in the house, tied up to a chair with her broken hand bound up and resting on another icepack.

Dawn drifted away from the stove and peered out into the living room, making sure Faith was still tied up. _It didn’t really happen,_ she reminded herself. Technically, they’d never actually met each other before. She still had memories of it all, though. She’d thought the other slayer was so much cooler than her sister, with the bad girl vibes and everything. And there was that time when Faith had done her makeup and hair, and Buffy had been so pissed about it.

But then the “bad girl” slayer had turned evil, and the monk-made memories insisted that Faith had once held a knife to Dawn, threatening to gut her and string her up by the intestines. Which would have been nifty as part of one of the gruesome stories Spike used to tell before the soul. Being the one directly threatened with it? Not so much.

Dawn shuddered and turned back to work on making tea. Spike could definitely use some, and Giles would be there soon to help deal with Faith. Apparently, some law firm down in L.A. had gotten her out of jail so they could use her and the baby-making ritual for their own army of slaypires. Angel had rescued her and sent her to Sunnydale without bothering to let any of them know.

That sounded a lot like Angel. He was a serious drama queen with a well-developed sense of what would cause the most disruption. All the back and forth and then dumping Buffy “for her own good.” Ugh. Of course, now that he had a chip to keep him from getting too happy, he’d been better about actually staying away and avoiding all contact. Not because he’d actually bought a clue or anything, though, Dawn was guessing. He probably still thought he had a chance – as if! – but he was in love with the idea of some kind of tragic love, not with Buffy herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the kettle starting to whistle just as someone knocked at the door.

 

**...**

 

It had started out as a rather enjoyable evening, and now everything had gone all pear-shaped. Typical, really. _Though at least I’ve yet to be hit on the head by anything,_ Giles thought wryly as he took a sip of the tea Dawn had poured for him. It was fairly good, which wasn’t surprising, considering who had most likely taught her. The teacher himself was sat on the sofa with Buffy, each of them pressed against their respective sides as if they wanted nothing to do with the other. Interestingly, extra chairs had been brought into the room rather than anyone daring to sit between them.

They’d get over their most recent spat soon enough. No doubt in time for him to tell them of the phone call he’d received before the one from Joyce. For now, though, the situation with Faith and Wolfram & Hart needed to be the main focus.

“I can’t say I’m terribly surprised by this turn of events,” he said with a sigh as he looked at Faith. “I had thought it would take longer for Ms. Morgan to find a way to work around the safety precautions built into the So’voriku ritual. No matter. Our own lawyers can be set on this in the morning. The Watchers’ Council has quite a bit of dirt on Wolfram & Hart. Not enough to shut down the entire organization, unfortunately, but we can shore things up in regards to more attempts at creating slaypires.”

“So, what, you’re just going to out lawyer them?” Faith asked incredulously.

“Yes, well, sometimes you have to fight fire with fire rather than marshmallows and pointy sticks.” It didn’t make all that much sense, but he was tired and standing by it.

“I like pointy sticks,” Buffy muttered. A glance her way showed that she and Spike had inched closer together. “And marshmallows.” Her expression hardened as she glared at Faith, unconsciously shifting closer to Spike. “But yeah, out-lawyering Wolfram & Hart is the best way to get you the hell out of Sunnydale without giving them what they want.”

“She isn’t staying in my house,” Joyce insisted. Giles didn’t blame her.

“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly need your charity,” Faith snapped, her eyes looking wounded. “I can do fine on my own. Just untie me, and I can take care of myself until the coast is clear back in L.A.”

Giles shook his head. “I’ve chains set up in the back of my car for your transport. Angel apparently felt you could be trusted here, but until he’s been contacted and explains himself, you’ll be confined to my shop.”

“If you’re really serious about the whole redemption thing,” Spike added quietly, “you’ve got to know we’ve no reason to trust you without proof. Not after all you’ve done.”

He and Buffy had met in the center of the couch. She was snuggled against his side now, one hand slipped under his sweater to absently rub his belly. The exchange of blows had apparently been forgotten or forgiven. Normally, Giles would have been rather worried about the amount of violence in their relationship, but the two of them were warriors with advanced healing abilities. Hitting each other was practically flirting between them. Possibly more than that, but he refused to consider such things in regards to his surrogate daughter.

“We’ll gather everyone for a meeting tomorrow afternoon at the Magic Box,” he announced. “We’ll decide what to do about Faith then.” He hesitated, then pushed on with the other bit of news. “And what to do about the phone call I received before being asked to come here again tonight. Willow will be coming for a visit.”

 

**...**

 

Spike was utterly knackered by the time he and Buffy staggered into their room. They’d the both of them needed a spot of violence to ease the tension, so they’d sparred a bit in the basement after Giles had taken Faith away. That had led to some frantic shagging they’d needed as much as the violence. A quick check on Thursday, and now here they were, getting ready for bed like an old married couple.

He shucked his clothing, dumping it on the floor instead of the hamper because he couldn’t be bothered, and climbed in under the covers. Buffy joined him a moment later, slipping her knee between his thighs to make him more comfortable. That was his Slayer. Even when she’d an attack of insufferable bitchiness, was still a core of kindness inside. Wouldn’t have her any other way, bitch and all.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know you can handle yourself in a fight. It’s just….”

“No worries, love. You do fine when you’ve a moment to think and work it all out, but this bloody Faith thing… got you all riled up and out of sorts. ‘Course the sodding ritual was going to poke its nose into things, wasn’t it?”

She sighed and snuggled even closer, sliding her arm around him to gently rub his lower back. “And now there’s Willow.” She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “God, that’s how my life goes. Everything goes wrong at once.” She went silent then, but he knew there was more. “She… she didn’t tell you about this, did she?”

No need to ask who “she” was. He sighed and nuzzled Buffy’s hair, breathing in her scent. With all the death and destruction he’d left in his wake, he’d no business flinging about stones, but this whole thing with Faith and Willow…. One had allowed herself to be locked away and the other was still trying to figure out what she needed to do to get everyone to forgive her. It didn’t work like that, though. One big grand gesture or taking your punishment like some sort of vile medicine didn’t just make things go all over butterflies and kittens. You had to acknowledge the wrongness, learn from it, and try your sodding best to be a better person.

Maybe they were working towards that in their own ways, but neither of them had the right to demand their victims recover and forgive them. They definitely had no right to insist on being trusted when they’d done nothing to really prove they could be.

Distant screams echoed in his mind, the ghosts of victims past. Far too many of those voices belonged to children. He took a slow, deep breath and pushed them away. The guilt would always be there to one degree or another, but giving in to it helped no one, not even those he’d killed.

“Wouldn’t keep something like that from you, Buffy,” he said in answer to her question. “Me and Willow, it’s mostly her trying to work out the whole guilt and forgiveness and whatall. Lots I haven’t bothered to tell her, and she apparently felt popping in to see her folks wasn’t worth mentioning. We’ll get through it all, though, yeah?”

“Yeah. We will.”

She kissed him, then let her own obvious exhaustion drag her under. They’d gotten through all sorts of things together. This would be no different. Spike closed his eyes and followed Buffy down into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Two turkey clubs for the Buffster, a chicken salad on whole wheat for Tara, and an Italian sub for Xander’s favorite former vengeance demon. That covered the ladies. A ham and swiss on rye for the G-Man and a roast beef for himself. And another roast beef along with a hot pastrami with extra onions, both for Spike. Maybe he didn’t have mad researching skills, super strength, or the ability to use magic, but when it came to providing Scooby meeting sustenance, Xander was The Man.

It helped that Spike’s obsession with French fries had died down. Everyone had been getting sick of Doublemeat even _before_ they’d had to stop the demon who had been snacking on the employees. He shuddered at the memory. That had been one nasty customer. Literally.

“Anything else?” the guy behind the counter asked.

Xander started to say no, then frowned. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Faith would probably be at today’s meeting. There was part of him that was perfectly happy with the thought of her watching hungrily while everyone else ate, but that would be wrong. Though not as wrong as….

_She’s rubbing against him even as her hands close around his neck. And he knows, looking in her eyes, that she wants to kill him just as much as fuck him. Maybe more…._

“Yeah,” he said a little shakily as he forced the memory down into the back of his mind. “Toss in a couple of tuna sandwiches or something.”

Once the order was ready, he headed out, walking the block between the deli and the Magic Box. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. He almost wanted to just go have lunch by himself somewhere before getting back to work. He was between construction jobs at the moment, but he’d gotten some carpentry commissions. Some cabinets and a fancy chest, kind of like the one he’d made for Buffy’s birthday. It was a nice thought, losing himself in the feel of the wood as he molded it to his needs.

But, no, he wouldn’t be able to focus on something else during this particular meeting. Not when it was about Faith and Willow both being in town. _At least it’s pool night._ His steps faltered at the thought of his weekly “man-date” with Spike and the relief that came with it. Yeah, Faith had used and abused him, and needing something to take his mind off of her was understandable, but Willow….

Before she’d gone all nutso with the magic, Willow had been his best friend. She was the one he would have gone to to talk – or not talk – about Faith. Now, after what she’d done while under the influence of the demon arm, she was part of the problem he’d be trying to escape. And that escape would involve hanging out with a vampire.

A vampire who had gone through worse than he had, since there hadn’t been any last-minute rescue for Spike. He understood, better than any of the others, how Xander felt about Faith being in their lives again. Faith….

He was thinking about her too much. He’d been trying not to, but she was a two-ton elephant in his mind. It had been bad enough, thinking he was giving his virginity to someone who actually cared about him, only to be tossed out before he could even put his clothes back on. He’d felt used and cheap, and he’d tried to convince himself it had been more than it seemed. But then, when he’d tried to talk to her, to help her….

_He’s helpless, pinned underneath her on the bed. He doesn’t want her like this, not right now, but his body won’t listen. The feel of her…. It feels so good and he can’t stop himself from responding even though he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t. He’s told her as much, but she doesn’t care. And she won’t stop. She…._

Xander took a deep, shuddering breath to try to clear his mind and sped back up towards the Magic Box. He didn’t want to do this, but he was part of the team, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let Faith – or Willow – drive him away from his friends.

 

**...**

 

Returning to Sunnydale had been seriously wacked. But Angel had said to go, that she’d be safe from Wolfram & Hart, so Faith had gone. Running off to Miss Goody-Goody herself on the say-so of the only person other than the Boss who really got her. Joyce had seemed to want to, at one point anyway.

That’s why Faith had gone to her. She’d thought everything would be the same, that Joyce would be at least a little sympathetic and Buffy would be spending all her time in a dorm room or hanging with her friends. _Coma or a stint in the joint,_ she thought, staring down at the chains around her wrists. _Either way, the world goes right on by._ Leaving her behind.

This time around, B was staying at home, shacking up with another vampire. For someone who was so prissy about playing the field, she sure did switch boyfriends a lot. What would happen when she got tired of this one? Would she keep the brat and brat-to-be or dump them to live with their sperm donor? Or whatever had been used in that ritual to make them.

Faith didn’t actually care and would be long gone before it was an issue. She eyed the chains again, following the path of them up towards the wall. She was bound here in some kind of training room, set up so she could stand, sit, or lay down on a thin stack of pads. It was better than some places she’d crashed. At least it didn’t smell like cat piss and stale garbage.

_Privacy leaves a bit to be desired, though,_ she thought as the door to the shop opened up and Giles came in.

“Hey, warden, here for a conjugal visit with the inmate?” she asked with a leer.

His lips compressed in a hard line as he gave her a cold glare. Good old no-sense-of-humor Giles. Some things, at least, never changed. He undid her chains without a word and led her into the shop. Buffy, her latest boytoy, and most of her little buddies were there. No Willow, who they seemed on the outs with now. Xander was handing sandwiches around, along with a kiss for the chick behind the counter. Faith vaguely remembered her from when she’d taken over B’s body.

Xander glanced over at her and… ouch. He was looking at her like she was something nasty on the bottom of his shoe. Worried the girlfriend wouldn’t like the fact that they’d had a go? Wasn’t that always the way with men? He’d been happy enough the first time. And no matter what he’d said, he’d been enjoying the second just fine until she’d tried to strangle him.

She shivered a little, remembering her hands around his neck. Even she didn’t know if she would have really killed him, but it had been a powerful feeling, holding his life in her hands.

She dragged her mind away from the memory and sat down at the table with the others. No one seemed happy to see her, especially not Xander’s girlfriend. She stalked towards Faith with a couple of sandwiches and practically threw them at her.

“You don’t deserve these,” she said bluntly. “But my sweetie is a good man.”

“Ooh, someone’s in a mood. Jealous that I had your ‘sweetie’ first?”

The words were barely out of her mouth when a hand was suddenly tangled in her hair, grabbing her by the back of the head to slam her face against the table. She surged up to her feet, going into a fighting stance as she glared at… B’s preggo pet vampire. Damn, he was fast. Adrenaline shot through her at the thought of fighting him. She wanted it. Just thinking about an all-out brawl got her juices going. Wrassle him down, then eat her damn sandwiches while she put him through his paces. See just what Buffy saw in him.

But then B herself was between the two of them. “Sit. Down.”

There was a dark promise in the hazel eyes staring her down. Faith flexed her mostly healed hand and snaked her tongue out to lick away the blood on her lip. If she was honest with herself, she knew she couldn’t take both B and Spike in a fight, but god, she wanted to try it.

“Faith,” Giles said, snapping out her name like a whip. “Angel has confirmed your story, which is why you are no longer chained. That can change.”

“Or I can just book it,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Buffy.

“You can,” the other slayer agreed. “But Giles’s lawyers have negotiated the Magic Box as a safe zone while they try to save you from being used to make an army of Slaypires. You can leave and try to avoid Wolfram & Hart, or you can sit down and shut up. Your choice.”

The urge to just take off was strong, but Angel had gone to the effort to get her away from Wolfram & Hart. She sat down, and the meeting started up as if nothing had happened. 

“Now then,” Giles started, “Willow and her escort will be here tomorrow. They want to try to de-rat Amy. Anyone who needs to….”

Faith tuned him out as he rambled on. She had to stay. It was what Angel would want of her. She had done a lot of bad things. She’d given in to darkness. But Angel had believed there was still a spark of good in her. She wasn’t going to throw that away.

 

**...**

 

“How you holding up?” Spike asked as he carefully lined up his shot and hit the cue ball with just the right amount of force.

It spun into the three ball, which knocked into the eleven and fourteen, sending the latter into the left side pocket. He circled the table, studying the layout. Hmm. Was a chance of sinking the nine ball, but it’d be a tricky shot.

Xander didn’t answer right away, just took a swig of his beer. The boy had walked tonight instead of driving, a sign he meant to get pissed right proper. Spike didn’t blame him. Wished he could join in, actually, but Aliena’s health – and Buffy’s sanity – were worth more than a spot of drunken fun.

“A lot better now that we’ve cut the wedding back to just us Scoobies and some of Anya’s demony friends,” Xander finally said.

It felt good, knowing he was included as one of the Scoobies – terrible name, that – but Spike didn’t let it distract him. The fact that a big, huge wedding had had Xander shaking in his boots had all been sorted weeks ago, and obviously had nothing to do with the question. It was equally obvious that the boy didn’t want to answer the actual question.

Spike had never really been one to pry into what wasn’t his business, so he contemplated his next shot. If he leaned just right…. Bugger. Wouldn’t work quite right with a belly full of sprog. Maybe if he…. Bloody hell! The cue ball hit the rail badly and bounced over the side. Thursday, the little traitor, giggled happily from one of the Bronze’s highchairs.

It would have been safe enough to leave her with Joyce and Dawn while he played pool and Buffy patrolled. They’d both babysat alone or together plenty of times, but there were two possible threats newly in town. Thursday had been stolen right out his body by Dru, kidnapped and bloody _tortured_ by Wolfram & Hart, and then taken and nearly killed by a madman from Angel’s past.

God, it was all still so fresh in his mind. Dru coming at him with the knife. Methodical, precise lines of pain carved into his little princess’s arms and legs. Her tiny body cradled in Holtz’s arms, a stake held against her chest…. He _needed_ to know Thursday was safe. To see her right there within reach.

_She’s safe,_ he told himself firmly as he moved away from the table, taking a sip from his bottle of lemonade. Willow’s power was contained and he and Buffy could handle Faith. Still and all….  While Xander retrieved the cue ball, Spike drifted over towards the highchair, putting down his cue stick and lemonade. Then his wriggly little girl was in his arms where she belonged, the scent of her calming him down. Warm and sweet, and a little like new pennies from the blood she’d been drinking from her sippy cup.

“Hohsey?” she chirped, offering him the cup.

“Ta, love.”

He shifted her to one arm, balancing her comfortably on his hip, and took a small sip before handing it back. It was actually a horse and human blend, but they called it all horse around the sprog, even the full human he was on for the pregnancy.

“I’m okay,” Xander said suddenly, not looking at Spike. His eyes were firmly on the pool table as he lined up his shot. He grimaced at the cue ball as if it just insulted his mum. “Or I will be. What Faith did…. What Willow did….” He shook his head as he trailed off. Then he looked over at Spike and Thursday and his expression softened. “Anya has been researching and found out that daisies are edible. So are roses, the traditional petals for flower girls to toss, but we thought, you know, daisies for Daysie. Ahn knows a place where she can get some that were organically grown, so no pesticides or anything.”

Spike tilted his head to the side as he studied Xander. They’d gone from enemies to frenemies due in part to shared traumas followed by time spent together. And now…. Well, the wedding was to be in about four months, the time picked out so Aliena would be roughly two-months-old – so Spike could be the best man without any worries about dropping a sprog (however it would end up happening this time around) in the middle of the ceremony –  and Thursday would be a bit better at walking. She’d toddle on down the aisle just fine, though she’d still be like to shove whatever was near into her gob, hence the edible flower girl petals.

His contemplation was interrupted by the sudden smell of Thursday messing herself. “Someone needs a new nappy,” he announced, grabbing the nappy bag from the nearby table.

Xander gave him the traditional pained look and said what he always did in this situation when they had Thursday with them. “Please tell me you aren’t going to change her in the women’s bathroom again.”

Spike wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Not taking my girl into a room where there are drunk men with their tackle out all willy-nilly. Especially not when there’s no bloody changing station.”

A few women had complained, but they tended to change their tune when he pointed out the drunken tackle business and the fact that Thursday was a little girl. She’d as much right to the ladies’ room as they did.

Xander threw his hands up in exasperation, completing the ritual before going back to his delayed shot.

Spike headed off to the loo to take care of Thursday, wondering just how much of everyone’s usual routines were going to be disrupted in the coming days.

 

**...**

 

He’d been offered a ride home by Spike, but Xander figured the walk home would help him clear his head. Faith and Willow swirled through his mind along with his family. Honestly, he felt nothing but relief over the decision not to invite the whole extended bunch to the wedding, but his parents…. He didn’t really like ultimatums, but he’d issued one. He’d told his dad that he could come to the wedding if he could promise not to touch a drop of alcohol that day or the week leading up to it. Dad had made it clear he was choosing booze over him, and his mom had chosen Dad. Neither of them would be there.

_I don’t need them,_ he thought as he got to his apartment door, clenching his teeth. They’d made his childhood hell by making those exact same choices. They were his relatives, but _not_ his family. You weren’t always born into your true family. Sometimes you had to choose it.

He slipped quietly through the apartment and into the bedroom where Anya was already snuggled into bed. Giles and Joyce were the parents he’d chosen, Buffy and Dawn and Tara his sisters. Little Daysie was his niece and Spike the older brother he’d always wanted.

He stripped and got under the sheets beside Anya. The woman of his dreams. The first time they’d had sex, he’d thought it would be like Faith. Wham, bam, thank you man, now get out. And okay, she’d declared herself over him at that point and had left. But that hadn’t been how she really felt. She’d come back and she’d stuck with him, even through the terrible things Willow had made him do to her. He gently stroked her cheek, and she wrapped an arm around him, mumbling something as she held him tight.

Screw his relatives. Xander had everything he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Tara stared down into her cup of coffee as if it held the answers about how she was supposed to feel. Sort of beige, apparently. Maybe she should have asked for plain coffee instead of a hazelnut vanilla latte. Or the tea she usually got when Xander did the drink run for morning meetings. Either one of those with a bit of sugar stirred in would have fit her mood. Bittersweet.

But she’d wanted something different from usual today, some small symbol that she’d changed from the last time she’d seen Willow. _Willow…._ Tara swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat and reached up to wipe away the moisture gathering at her eyes. Willow had been her first in so many ways. The first to see and accept her as she was since the death of her mother. Her first girlfriend. Her first lover. Willow had stood by her when her family had come to take her away, even though there had been some tension between them because of some of Willow’s actions.

Willow had been her rock, had helped her become a stronger person who was more confident and sure of herself. And then she had tried to take it all away.

The woman that she’d loved had used magic to turn Tara into what her family… her _relatives_ … had always wanted her to be. A pliable, empty-headed little mouse firmly under someone else’s thumb. Someone who wouldn’t take a stand and tell her “no” when she did something wrong.

Willow wouldn’t have done it if not for the demonic arm. Tara was certain of that, at least. The thing was, though, that the arm wouldn’t have put the thought into her head. It had suppressed her conscience, not possessed her.

_Some part of her wanted me to be like that. To be under her control and in constant awe of her. She –_

A hand on her shoulder pulled Tara out of her thoughts.

“It’s going to be okay,” Xander said, flashing a tight little smile of shared misery.

He didn’t seem any happier about this reunion than she was. She didn’t blame him. His best friend, the person who had been with him most of his life and knew him best of all, had reduced him to the mentality of a child. She’d thrown away all of his personal growth and had forced him to be cruel to the woman he loved. Her actions had cut him like a white hot knife.

_She cut all of us,_ Tara thought, glancing around the shop. Anya was obsessively counting the money in the register while Giles polished a set of statuettes with single-minded focus. Buffy and Faith had vanished at some point, probably into the training room so Buffy could work out her tension and aggression. Even Spike, the only one of them who was taking Willow’s calls, seemed to be on edge. He was on the phone with Joyce for the second time in twenty minutes, checking on Thursday.

The only one not affected was Amy. She was calmly napping in her cage on the research table, completely unaware that today had a good chance of changing her life back to the way it was supposed to be. That’s what they should all be focusing on right now. Today was Amy’s day, not Willow’s.

Tara took a deep breath and slowly let it out before smiling back at Xander. “Yeah. It _is_ going to be okay.”

She felt it. She believed it. And then Willow came in.

 

**...**

 

Willow took a hesitant step into the Magic Box, the stump of her left arm throbbing with pain as she crossed the threshold. _Psychosomatic,_ she thought with the same sort of detachment her mother would have used when making a diagnosis. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to think about the things she’d done here. The things the arm had made her do.

_Wasn’t just the arm, though, was it, Will?_ The voice in her head was Spike’s, repeating the sort of thing he’d always say whenever she tried to blame the arm for the things that had happened. But it _had_ been the arm. It had. In part, anyway. She never would have –

“Willow.”

There was no welcome in Xander’s voice. There was no anger really, either. Just a sort of neutral wariness that was somehow worse. She couldn’t handle this. She wasn’t ready for it. But when she took a step backwards towards the door, the way was blocked by one of her two escorts. There was no escape from what she’d done. She had to face them.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, forcing herself to look around. Blessed goddess, it _hurt_. Despite the tone of Xander’s voice, both he and Tara were staring at her like she’d stabbed them in the back of the heart. Giles was a little bit better with his tight-lipped look of disapproval, but it was still too much for her. Willow turned away, focusing on the one person who had allowed her to keep in contact.

Spike…. Who was wearing a kilt and baggy sweater and looked kind of… pudgy around the middle. It was like a slap to the face. Xander and Tara, the way Giles was looking at her, the fact that Buffy and Dawn didn’t even seem to be there, she’d known there was a good chance of all of that. But this? Spike was pregnant again, far enough along to be showing, and he’d never said a word about it to her.

Yeah, okay, so there were things she hadn’t told him, like the whole visiting Sunnydale thing, but this was huge. The chance of Buffy and Spike getting accidentally caught up in a fertility spell again was pretty much zero, which meant they’d done it on purpose. All of the times they’d talked on the phone, all the deep things they’d shared, and he’d never mentioned this?

_Of course he didn’t,_ she realized, feeling sick. The arm had…. She’d been under its influence, and she’d tried to wipe Thursday out of existence. And even though she’d only been doing as Buffy had asked, she’d helped hold him captive for the first few days of that first pregnancy. _Buffy wasn’t really in her right mind, then._

She wasn’t allowed to dwell on that thought much. Abigail and Penelope, her two escorts, headed towards the research table, pushing her along in front of them. She took a seat, looking down at the tabletop until a sound caught her attention. Buffy came out of her training room, Faith right behind her. What the…? What was Faith doing there? None of them would talk to her, but they trusted _Faith_ to be there?

Willow clenched her fists and took several slow, deep breaths, trying to control the flood of rage. She wanted to call up her magic and blast the rogue slayer, but there was nothing she could do. With the spells in place around her, she could barely even float a pencil anymore outside of a sanctioned practice session.

“Let’s get down to business, then, shall we?” Penelope said, completely oblivious to the danger Faith represented. “Please remove the young woman from the cage, if you would?”

None of the people who knew her was exactly giving Faith warm and fuzzy looks, but they weren’t really paying attention to her either. Willow reluctantly put aside her anger to focus on what was going on with Amy.

Tara was reaching into the cage for the transformed witch. She was so gentle as she carefully closed her hands around the small animal, murmuring softly to her. So sweet and kind, beautiful inside and out. And Willow had reduced her to….

She’d missed something, because Tara was now holding Amy over the floor while Penelope and Abigail chanted together.

Then Tara let the rat go as it began to writhe and change form, once more taking the shape of a human.

 

**...**

 

The sounds pressed into her. Horrible, horrible sounds that became worse even as they became less distinct. Sounds that filled her body and stretched it out. She was growing. Growing, growing, and everything was fading away. The world was vanishing, scents and sounds. Gone, gone, gone. So dark in her mind where scent and sound lived.

Dark, alone. Prey. Run and hide. Get away. Nowhere to hide. Her body wouldn’t obey.

Colors warped and changed, some going away while new ones assaulted her eyes. Warped and wrong. She was wrong, becoming wronger. Shapes came into focus, blurry big things becoming clear as they changed sizes. This was…. She writhed and opened her mouth, letting out a terrified screech that became a scream.

Amy dropped to her knees as something soft was thrown over her horribly bald and tailless body. She clutched it close and scrambled away from all of the people, her movements jerky and clumsy before she huddled into a ball against one of the shelves. Big things were everywhere, making noises at her. Noises…. There was something. She should know these noises, but they had no meaning. Most of them.

_Amy. Amy,_ they called. That meant… that meant to come to the voices. But she didn’t want to. She shivered and pulled the soft thing ( _robe?_ ) even closer around herself. It was so loud/not loud and she….

“Treat,” a familiar big thing called softly. “Treat, treat, treat.”

Amy’s nose twitched, but she couldn’t smell anything. She knew that voice and those words though. She knew…. She crawled towards the familiar big thing and put her face in its hand so she could eat the crunchy round things she found there. _Cheerios._ She knew Cheerios. She’d eaten them when she’d been….

It started coming back to her in a swirl of fear and anger. She’d been tied to a stake. Fire. Then she’d done a spell, and she’d been a rat. How long? It felt like just yesterday, but she had the uneasy feeling it had been longer than that. People were still talking at her, and she couldn’t _think._

“Shut your gobs for half a mo, already!” another one of the voices yelled.

“Ha… how long?” Amy asked into the silence, the sounds feeling unnatural as they came out of her mouth.

Had it been a month? Two? Had she missed the prom? At least this wouldn’t be as bad as when her mother had taken her body. There hadn’t been someone running around, doing things while in her skin.

More silence as people looked at each other uncomfortably. Then one of them – Buffy. She recognized her now – moved away from the dark-haired woman she’d been with to take the hand of the man who had made everyone shut up.

“It’s… uh, it’s been three years,” she said.

Three… years? That was… that was just _stupid!_ She couldn’t have been a rat for three years. Someone took a step towards her and she cowered away, part of her still convinced humans were giants who could easily squash her.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Willow said soothingly, like she was talking to a crazy person.

Amy just stared at her a moment. It was going to be okay? She’d been a _rat_ for three _years!_ What part of that was okay? She opened her mouth to say just that, but all that came out was a bout of hysterical laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting this. I moved from east Texas to Oregon, then had a medical crisis that involved my wife being in the hospital for a transfusion.


	5. Chapter 5

_Why don’t you go home and crawl into your hole?  
_ _Why don’t you go home and spend some time alone?_

It had to be magic. Somehow, the Bronze always had just the right music playing, even when it was canned instead of live. Amy lifted her glass in a general salute to whoever had chosen that particular Soul Asylum song, then downed her drink. The whiskey was rough and terrible, but she didn’t care as long as it got her drunk.

_In the corner, I look across the room_  
_To the other corner, I knew I’d be there soon._  
_Caged rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat!  
_ _Rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat, caged rat!_

Her twenty-first birthday had been a couple of weeks ago. Would anyone have come to it if she’d been human? _Doesn’t really matter, I guess._ Her age didn’t really matter either, or the fact that she had no license. Just the clothes and money she’d been given, as if that was some sort of compensation for three years of being kept as a pet. None of that mattered to the Bronze and its bartenders. All were welcome to drink, as long as you had the money and might provide a nice snack for vampires.

Vampires…. The place was crawling with them, according the detection spell she’d come up with shortly after getting her body back from her mother. She’d set the spell back up before leaving the magic shop. The white-haired guy she’d thought was so nice and cute had immediately pinged it. The guy Buffy had been so snuggly with right in front of her slutty girlfriend. Or maybe the vampire was Buffy’s boyfriend, and slut-girl was her bit on the side?

Amy didn’t know or even really care. It was just proof of how much had happened since she’d last been human. She’d never really been part of the group, but she’d thought they would have at least turned her back. Yeah, she’d saved herself by turning into a rat and leaving Buffy and Willow to the fire, but what choice had she had? She wasn’t one of the special ones like they were. She’d been a red shirt, destined to die if she’d stayed while the other two would have been saved somehow. And they had been, obviously.

They’d been happy and human for the past three years. Buffy had both her demon and her princess, and there seemed to be something between Willow and the nice enchantress who had had the robe and cheerios. And they both still had that goofball, Xander.

“You look like someone with a story to tell.” The woman who sat down next to her was tall, blonde, and friendly-looking. “A brandy for me, and another of what my friend here is drinking,” she called out of the bartender.

“Friend?” Amy asked, giving her a dubious look. Her memory was a bit fuzzy when it came to some things and she hadn’t seen a lot of people in the last three years, but she thought she would have remembered if she’d ever known this particular woman. Not that she was going to turn down the drink, though. She needed another one.

“Potential friend,” the woman corrected. “I’m Sera. I came down to Sunnydale for a friend’s bridal shower, and I’ve been considering setting up shop.”

“Setting up shop, huh?” Amy took a drink of her freshly refilled whiskey. Huh. It seemed smoother than before. “What is it you do?”

“I listen,” Sera said simply. “And you seem like you have a lot to say.”

 

**...**

 

The bristles of the brush gently scraped her scalp as it slid through her hair with a light tug. Buffy watched in the mirror, eyes half-lidded, as the brush reached the hair that seemed to be hovering in the air. Then it disappeared, only to reappear again at the top of her head. Her eyes told her she was alone, just her sitting in front of the mirror with her mysteriously floating hair and the flickering brush. But all of her other senses were very aware of the man standing behind her.

The sound of his soft humming, interspersed with random snatches of song. The comfortingly room-temperature brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as he worked on her hair. And the smell of him. Buffy let her eyes flutter the rest of the way shut as she slowly breathed in through her nose. The earthy scent of vampire mixed with the summer storm and leather that was pure Spike. And a hint of smokiness, even though it’d been a few months since his last cigarette. Vampire. Man. _Hers._

The brushing stopped, and she opened her eyes in time to see the hair brush set down on the table with other random hair things. A glance in the mirror showed no one beside her, but with a slight turn of her head, she could see Spike right there, lovely and as naked as she was. He held his hand out for her to take, and she docilely let him help her up.

Docile. Quiet. A helpless little lamb in the clutches of a predator. It wasn’t who she was. It would _never_ be who she was, but there was something strangely freeing in being able to pretend.

Most of the time, their games involved fighting, dominance play that pitted her superior strength against Spike’s speed and experience. Usually, they were so evenly matched that his love for being dominated by a strong woman was what decided things.

Every once in a while, though…. Soul or not, Spike was a vampire, and vampires had needs beyond just drinking blood. Going after demons and other vampires took care of the urge to kill, but sometimes… sometimes Spike needed a victim.

Something deep inside howled in protest when Buffy allowed herself to be pressed against the wall. It was one thing to be fought to a standstill, but this…. _I want this._ To surrender herself to the man that she loved, to give herself to him without any kind of fight.

Flickers of memory drifted through her thoughts. All the times she’d submitted in one way or another to Riley. It had never gone as far as this, but it had always been fueled by fear. The fear of being abnormal. Of not being a good enough girlfriend. This, though, was fueled by love. It wasn’t giving up. It was just _giving_.

She closed her eyes as strong hands began to explore her face, the hands of a warrior and a poet, mapping out her features. A firm trace along her forehead. A gentle brush across the eyelids and down to her cheeks. Nose, mouth, and chin. Then lower, one hand curving around the front of her throat. A flash of fear and excitement. And then he started to squeeze.

 

**...**

 

How many young women had he seduced and lured to their deaths, either at his fangs or Dru’s? Far too many to ever count, and they were neither here nor now. Now there was only Buffy, her life literally in his hands. He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse, like a little bird desperate to get free.

Spike shuddered and leaned into her, his cheek brushing against hers as he nuzzled her hair. God, the scent of her. Fear and arousal, and the instinctual rage of a Slayer put in a situation like this. He could feel her trembling, muscles tense as she struggled, not against him but against the need to fight back. Because beneath everything else, there was trust. All he’d done, all the death and misery left in his wake, and still, she trusted him enough to let him do this to her.

Her heartbeat slowed, and her muscles began to relax. Almost there. Almost. Almost…. Her head tilted back as he let go of her neck, and she drew in in a gasping lungful of air. That was when he struck, fangs coming out to pierce Buffy’s flesh.

He was drowning in her. In the sound of her cry of pleasure and pain, and in the unbelievable taste of her. Spice and sunlight and wildflowers. Slayer and Buffy. And love. Above all, she tasted of love.

Her pulse sped as she clutched at him, holding him tight and urging him to take more of her blood. Her life. Her love. It coated his tongue, flowed down his throat, filled him with the essence of her. The woman who held his heart.

There was a part of him wanting to keep drinking her down, to take her all in, hold her warm and safe inside of himself, but… if he did that, she would be gone. And he’d’ve betrayed the trust she had in him. Something he couldn’t have borne even before the soul. He gave her one last, lingering swipe of his tongue before gently pulling away.

Buffy moaned softly, body undulating as she rubbed against him. Flushed cheeks and eyes darkened with desire. She was beautiful. And she was his. He led her to the bed, laying her out on her back. Then he was kneeling between her raised legs, worshiping her even as he continued to set the pace and tone. 

She was _his._ And he was hers. And nothing would ever keep them apart.

 

**...**

 

“… and I jush wist….” Amy giggled and stared down into her glass. Wist. “They… Buffy and Willow. They should know what it was like. Rat in a wheel, always running, running, running, but they can never… never seem to get where they need to go. What they love jus’ out of their reash. Prinshess, an’ demon, and jester, and, and….” She took another drink. “And the enchantress, too. Locked away in a tower while Buff and Will run in their wheel.”

“That would be just what they deserve, wouldn’t it?” Sera said sympathetically. Such a nice woman. “It would be justice, really. Don’t you wish that would happen?”

“Yeah….” Amy felt herself listing to the side, but it was hard to focus on. “I wish… all that.” She waved her hand vaguely and lost the fight to stay upright.

She peered up at Sera, whose eyes seemed to glow for a moment as she smiled.

“Wish granted.”

Wish granted, huh? Amy smiled. Well, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Caged Rat is by the band Soul Asylum.


	6. Chapter 6

Something was wrong. The feeling nagged at Joyce, drawing her up from sleep. Something was very wrong. What was…? A loud, angry wail broke into her thoughts. Thursday was crying. _She has been for a while now,_ Joyce realized, worry shivering through her spine and chasing away the last of the sleep. She threw back the covers, practically jumping out of bed before hurrying down the hall to Dawn’s old room.

It was the nursery now, and Joyce’s unease increased as she got closer. From the moment Thursday had been ripped out of him, Spike had been hyper aware and overprotective of her. The trip to L.A. back in November had only made things worse. He should have been there within moments of his little girl’s first cry.

But there was no soft male voice singing quiet little snatches of random lullabies, and her unease started heading down into dread. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Maybe exhaustion had finally overcome Spike’s separation anxiety? Maybe he and Buffy were curled up together in bed, in the middle of being dragged out of sleep?

They needed whatever rest they could get. So she would take care of Thursday and then look in on them. Just in case there was something wrong. She opened up the door to the nursery. Thursday was standing up in her crib, her little fists clutched tightly around two of the wooden bars as she howled her frustrations to the world.

Joyce had just picked her up when there was a sound from the hallway. The attic trap door opening, followed by the sounds of Dawn coming down.

“Mom?” Dawn peered into the room, looking worried. “What’s wrong? Where’s Spike? Or Buffy?”

“I’m going to find out,” Joyce said, handing Thursday over to her aunt. “Change her diaper if it needs it and give her some blood.”

Dawn, thankfully, didn’t argue. She just nodded and took the still crying baby downstairs. That just left Joyce to find out what had happened to her older daughter and the vampire she loved.

A firm knock at the door brought no more response than Thursday’s cries had. A jiggle of the doorknob proved it was unlocked. She eased it open, the light from the hall showing a rumpled, and alarmingly empty, bed. It was still dark out, so it was possible they’d both just gotten restless. Or maybe Spike had started craving something they didn’t have? And… they’d just left without taking Thursday or arranging for someone to watch over her?

None of that seemed very likely, but Joyce had almost managed to convince herself of it when she saw something that sent fear thundering through her. Proof that her unborn granddaughter and the man who was practically her son-in-law were in serious danger. There, on the nightstand, was the amulet Spike needed to keep himself warm.

 

**...**

 

She was wandering through the halls, trying to find her class, but she couldn’t remember the room number. How long had it been since she’d been to any of her classes anyway? Oh, god, she couldn’t remember. Horrible, sickening dread dropped on her like a two-ton stone. She was going to flunk. She was going to flunk, and her mother was going to be so disappointed, and she was suddenly colder than she had been because she was naked and….

Buffy’s eyes snapped open, and it had to be one of those times when you only thought you’d woken up, because that was the only thing that made any sense. Instead of snuggled up with Spike under an electric blanket, she was in some kind of meadow, the light of a full moon revealing that her skin – the parts that weren’t covered by what looked sort of like a fairytale prince outfit – was covered in short, pale fur. She knew from the weird itchy-but-not feeling that the fur extended under the clothes, too.

And that wasn’t the only weird feeling. There was something…. She quickly surged up to her feet, nearly falling over as she tried to adjust to the change in her balance. She had a tail. A long, sort of scaly tail, but not like a lizard or anything. Oh god, she was some kind of… of rat person thingy. Her hands practically flew up to her face. Normal, other than the fur she could feel against her thankfully fur-free palms. The rest of her head, though…. Her ears stuck out from her head, round, thin, and like stroking delicate velvet.

_Okay, I’d really like to wake up now,_ she thought uneasily. The only dreams she’d ever had that had felt this real were slayer dreams, and whatever this was, it didn’t have the feeling of one of those. But this couldn’t be real.

She couldn’t be a furry rat person randomly in a meadow somewhere. It was just too weird to be real. _And being the vampire slayer living on a Hellmouth with the undead boyfriend she’s impregnated twice is oh so normal. Face it, Buff, this is your –_

A sound interrupted her thoughts, and she whirled towards it. There was someone else in the meadow with her. A familiar redhead dressed up in a Mickey Mouse style wizard outfit. Or more like Mickey Rat. She had fur, rat ears, and a tail, too.

_Willow_. Buffy’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. Willow, who was supposed to be safe and pretty much powerless. Who had made all kinds of mistakes with her magic. Who had helped Buffy hold Spike captive when he should have had the freedom to decide what he wanted to do about things going on in his own body. Who had gone crazy with evil power and had done so many terrible things, including trying to erase an innocent little baby.

“What. Have. You. Done?” Buffy demanded through gritted teeth, using all of her willpower to keep from attacking her former best friend.

She felt a trickle of fluid along her hand. Blood from digging her nails into her own flesh. _Calm down, Buffy,_ she told herself. Deep breaths, count to ten. Deep breaths, count to ten. Deep breaths –

“I… I didn’t do anything,” Willow insisted, eyes wide and deceptively innocent.

Part of her wanted to accept that look, to think they’d both just gotten caught up in something weird. But this was magic, and in Buffy’s experience, that usually meant Willow had done something. 

“Did you get mad because someone else was able to change Amy back?” She advanced towards Willow. “Was this some kind of attempt to turn her into a rat again so you could be the one to do it? Did you try to change me?”

She froze as a horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. _Oh god. Oh, god, no!_ She frantically looked around her immediate surroundings before turning in a circle, trying to spot any full rats anywhere. Where was Spike? Had Willow managed to turn him into a rat? What would that do to Aliena? And what about Thursday? She hadn’t been in the room with them, but that didn’t mean she was safe.

She flung herself at Willow, grabbing her by the collar of her wizard robe and shaking her. “What have you done?” she repeated. “Where’s Spike? If you’ve hurt him or the babies, I swear I’ll –”

“Let go!” Willow struggled, but it was nothing to Buffy’s strength. She was only holding cloth right now, but it would be so easy to wrap her hands around that fragile neck and snap it like a twig. The protective instinct from the ritual pushed the idea. Take out the dangerous witch. Keep her babies safe. “I didn’t do this. I can’t even use magic right now!”

Willow flung out her hands as she spoke, and a burst of energy erupted between them, knocking them apart. Buffy lay on the ground in stunned silence for a moment. Even as she’d been accusing the other woman and panicking over all that might have happened, part of her hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. But it was. Willow had the use of her magic back.

Buffy slowly got to her feet, taking up a fighting stance. She wasn’t going to kill Willow. If she’d done something to Spike or Thursday, she’d probably have to be alive to undo it. So, no killing. But she was going to do whatever it took to take her down.

 

**...**

 

Spike shivered, curling in towards himself in an instinctive, but futile, effort to get warm. Why was it so bloody cold? What had happened to the electric blanket? More importantly, where was Buffy? _Prob’ly off to the loo,_ he thought muzzily as he worked his way through the thick molasses of sleep. Couldn’t have been tending to Thursday. He’d have heard it if the sprog had cried.

He shifted, then froze, instantly awake as he realized he wasn’t in the bed he shared with Buffy. The mattress didn’t feel right, and the smell of the room…. Empty but for his own scent and the lingering remnants of Buffy on his skin. Skin that was covered in some kind of velvety fabric, like a robe or somesuch, though he’d gone to bed starkers.

He slowly sat up and closed his eyes – yeah, pointless, but it helped him focus – before straining to hear anything. Faint sounds. Heartbeats. Breathing. The rustling of other beings. He breathed deeply through his nose. There. Just a hint of familiar scents somewhere out beyond what he assumed was a bedroom. They weren’t strong enough for him to pinpoint who was out there, but he knew none of them were Buffy or Thursday.

Spike took several more breaths. Slow and deep, trying to calm himself as the spidery fingers of panic started scrabbling about inside. Thursday was probably fine. Safe as houses, most likely with her mum or grandmum. Just because he couldn’t see her didn’t mean she was in any danger.

The images seemed to play across the backdrop of the pitch black room. Thursday, newborn and squalling, held in Dru’s arms. Eight months old and being grabbed at by Darla. Only a day or so later, his baby girl covered in methodical cuts, cold, cruel torture to see what she could heal from and how fast. And from there to Holtz, a stake held against her chest.

As if from a distance, he could hear himself hyperventilating. Desperate, rapid gasps and pants for air he didn’t physically need. _Come on, keep it together, old son,_ he told himself. But he wasn’t listening, not a bit of it. He needed to find Thursday. He needed to know where she was. Needed to make sure she was safe. To –

_You can’t do anything for anyone if you aren’t thinking straight._ Ben’s words in his head. _Sometimes just winging it, going with your instincts, works, but other times, you have to stop and think._ Right. Stop and think. He could do that. First thing first, see if he could find a light or heat source. Preferably both, though if only one, he needed heat.

He had a little bit of time, but he was getting colder and colder by the moment. If he didn’t find a way to warm up, he’d end up dusting and taking Aliena with him, most likely. Though he was far enough along that she might survive it, a wee premie left laying about in his dust. Cold and alone. Not exactly ideal for either him or the sprog.

He stood up and carefully made his way to a wall, the hem of whatever he was wearing swishing around his bare ankles. He walked along, his hand trailing against the wall until he came into contact with what felt like a mantel. Mantel usually meant a fireplace. Well, that got him both light and heat, assuming he could find anything to light the bloody thing with.

He dropped down into a crouch – joints and back aching in protest at the movement – and felt about. There didn’t seem to be a grating in front. Just a pile of wood set up for a fire. From the feel of it, it even had straw or somesuch spread over for kindling. Right then. He popped back up with a slight groan to check the mantel for matches or anything of the like. There. A box of matches.

Despite being rather flammably-inclined, he’d kept in practice at lighting fires of all sorts. Half a tick, give or take, and he had the flames coaxed into life.

Now that he had a light source, he could see he’d been dressed in a flowing velvet gown. Burgundy with black trim. Huh. Well, not the most peculiar thing he’d ever woken up in. Dru always had enjoyed playing dress up, and if he’d woken every time she wanted to indulge, he’d have never got a wink. This particular outfit had a simple elegance to it. It went nicely with the decor. The room was all done up like it belonged to a fairytale princess, but in jewel and earth tones rather than pastels. Not bad, honestly.

There were no windows in the room – a bit of a plus from his perspective, though it would have added a possible escape route – but there was a door. Once he’d warmed up enough by the fire, he’d see if it was locked or not.

Or not, it seemed. He heard footsteps right outside the door, followed by the knob turning without the sound of a key or lock being turned.

Spike tensed, shifting into a fighting stance as the door swung open. And in walked Faith like she bloody well owned the place, all done up in a red and black leather cat suit. There was something different about her, though it seemed fitting, with what he knew of her. She’d a pair of short little horns protruding from her forehead and a spade-tipped tail from her tailbone. She looked as demonic now on the outside as her actions had made her on the inside.

 

**...**

 

Thursday was finally asleep, a warm, solid weight in Joyce’s arms, the baby’s head resting on her shoulder. The poor little thing’s face was still splotchy and red from crying her little heart out, wailing for Da-da and Mum-uh until she’d been hoarse.

_Don’t worry, sweetie,_ she thought, gently stroking Thursday’s back. _We’re going to find them._

Joyce glanced around the Magic Box and everyone who had gathered there. Giles, Anya, one of Tara’s friends from the Wicca group, and the two witches from England. Dawn, too, all of them looking grim and worried. Xander, Tara, Willow, and Faith had all vanished along with Buffy and Spike, though it was possible that Faith had just left, deciding she’d rather take her chances at being a broodmare or stud for Wolfram & Hart. Either way, they’d found a hair in the training room that was likely hers and had added it to the pile of things for a multi-person locater spell.

As Joyce watched, the witches and Tara’s friend finished the spell, and several green motes rose up into the air. They swirled around in a circle three times, then vanished.

She frowned, looking where they had been, then at the witches. “What just happened?” she demanded, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake her granddaughter. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” one of the witches started, looking up at her, “that none of the missing people are on this plane, alive or dead. They’ve all been taken to some other dimension.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. Moving and everything and then going to go get our pets and all that. Lots of driving and getting settled and not a lot of time or energy to write.


	7. Chapter 7

_ The night light's gone out, _ Tara thought muzzily as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to make her way through the dark to the bathroom, then froze, her heart racing with sudden terror. Oh god. This was.... She'd gone to bed wearing an old, loose nightshirt, and now she was dressed in what felt like some kind of silky gown with a form-fitting bodice.

Someone had broken into her room, touched her body to strip her naked, and had changed her into something else. Something of their own choosing. She shuddered and hugged herself as bits of memory flashed through her mind. Smiling vacantly while Willow touched her, caressing her with her demonic arm. Stroking her. Clawed, scaly hand dripping with vileness as she....

A low whimper escaped Tara as she scooted back towards the center of her bed. Another horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. Was this even her bed? What if the night light  _ hadn't _ gone out? What if she'd been taken somewhere else?

She squeezed her eyes shut and took several slow, deep breaths. Okay, so someone (Willow?) had probably used magic to keep her asleep while they changed her clothes and most likely kidnapped her. She could just sit here in fear, or she could try to do something about this situation. Well, that was an easy enough choice to make. Now to figure out what exactly she was going to do about escaping. She could start by bumbling around in the dark, or....

Magic. It was going to have to be magic.

Ever since Willow had started overusing it, Tara had often found herself second guessing and worrying over when it was okay to use magic. So far, she'd decided training exercises were alright, along with helping people in ways that couldn't really be done with mundane skills. And dealing with a dangerous situation. This definitely counted as a dangerous situation.

She took another slow, deep breath before quietly murmuring a detection spell. Not that she'd exactly kept the fact that she was awake a secret, but there was no point to drawing even more attention to herself. According to her spell, there were other people wherever she was, but not in her immediate vicinity. Assuming she was in an average bedroom, she was alone in the room. Okay, good. That was good. The next step was making some light.

A moment of focus and more murmured words, and a ball of light was called to Tara's hand, revealing that she'd been both right and wrong. She was alone in the room, but it definitely wasn't an average one. Using her spell light, she made her away around the room, lighting the various lamps. There was a fireplace, too, but she left it unlit.

She dismissed the summoned light and looked around, fully taking the room in. It was large, with the bed she'd woken up on taking up one corner. The rest was dedicated to magic. Neatly labeled jars and boxes held all kinds of supplies, and there was a book titled Enchantment Spells sitting on top of a worktable. Tara stared at it all and at herself, her unease growing.

What the hell was going on here? She'd been taken against her will and dropped into some sort of magical playground, dressed up in an ice blue gown with white trim. Had someone decided to kidnap their very own pet witch? Or....

_ This is the sort of thing Willow would do _ , she thought, closing her eyes at the stab of pain through her heart. If Willow had somehow gotten her magic back, she might have tried to "fix" things. God, she could almost hear the other woman's voice in her mind.  _ See? It's all better now. You're my beautiful enchantress. It's not like before, with the arm. We can be together again. _

Tara shook the thoughts away and opened her eyes, forcing herself to examine the room again. There were two doors, one situated where an exit might be, and the other sort of tucked off to the side. Probably a bathroom. Right. Okay. She'd make use of that, and then.... Her eyes strayed back to the magic supplies. She didn't know just what was going on here, but she could prepare a few defenses before she left the relative safety of the room.

Her mouth tightened into a firm line of determination. A few defenses... and some offenses, too. 

 

...

 

One good thing to come out of the life she'd led was that Faith knew how to roll with the punches. Wake up in a strange place in a leather catsuit with horns and a tail sticking out of her body? No big. She could handle it. And not having a freak out was about to be rewarded if she was reading things right. She'd decided to explore, and she'd found B's latest boytoy, all decked out in a loose, flowing dress and looking ready for a good ol' throw down.

All the time spent locked away with no one to fight but normal human women. And then all the little teases once she'd made it to Sunnydale. She clenched her fist, remembering the feel of Buffy crushing it, her fingers digging in, making the bones grind. Oh yeah, B always had known how to show a lady a good time. Seemed like her pet vampire did, too.

"Hey there, princess," she said, licking her lips. "Looking to wrassle?"

A little voice in the back of her head cried out in protest, sounding a lot like Angel. This wasn't the way to go if she really wanted to change. Spike had gone all defense mode just at the sight of her. The right thing to do would be to diffuse things. Something strange was going down, and she had a feeling the vampire wasn't part of it. She should reassure him that she wasn't part of the problem, either.

It would be the right thing to do. If she wanted to be a better person. If she wanted....  _ All of the people she'd killed and hurt, the blood on her hands. Her own voice, screaming about how bad she was, begging Angel to just do it. To kill her. His arms around her as he comforted her in the rain. _

She shook the memories away, hiding her thoughts with a slow smirk. She'd let herself be arrested. She'd gone to jail, cooped up in a cage, no real chance to fight and be what she was. A vampire slayer. And here was a vampire. Okay, yeah, so she would need to be careful because of the baby, but she could really use some fun right now. A bit of a tussle to clear her head, then they could figure out what the hell was going on.

Boytoy's eyes narrowed as he looked her over. There wasn't the lust she was used to seeing from men, but that didn't stop her from shifting her stance and wiggling slightly, drawing attention to her breasts. Wag a bit of T and A in a man's face, and he'd always end up thinking with his dick. It made them weak, easier to take out.

In this case, it earned her a snort of disgust and a raised brow of utter contempt. "Killed two of your kind, I have, and spar all regular like with another. You really think you got what it takes, little girl?"

Little girl, huh? And acting she was nothing worth looking at? Faith flung herself at Spike, but he moved, faster than she'd expected even though she'd seen proof of his speed twice already. A fist slammed into her face, followed by a kick to the knee that sent her down to the ground. She slowly got up and grinned as she licked the blood from her split lip.

"Oh, I know I do," she said.

This was going to be fun.

 

...

 

_ Of course Willow dressed me up like this, _ Xander thought in disgust and disappointment as he followed Tara out of the room. She'd woken him up only a few minutes ago, and he'd found himself somewhere strange in a ridiculous blue and white jester's outfit, complete with a belled hat that had fallen off on the bed.

Tara had carefully pointed out that they didn't  _ know _ it was Willow who had done this, but who else could it have been? First she'd made him some kind of immature doofus who treated Anya like crap. Now "someone" had put him in the part of a jester. Some idiot to dance around for her entertainment. Her good old trained buttmonkey, Xander.

He forced himself to shake away the bitter thoughts as he crossed a sort of living room area with Tara. It was huge and all done up in black and red with gold highlights. There was a lot of comfortable-looking furniture – good quality to his carpenter's eye – and a lit fireplace. There were five doors other than the one they'd just come from. 

"There are other peop–" Tara started to say, only to be cut off by a sudden loud commotion from behind one of the doors.

There was still a shyness about her, a tendency to prefer to be in the background, and probably always would be. But as she strode towards the source of the sounds, Tara seemed full of the confidence she had started to gain since taking charge of the Wicca group. If that confidence hadn't been there, Xander might have taken the lead, but with it, he fell in behind her as she flung the door open.

And then he froze at what was on the other side. Faith, looking like some kind of succubus and fighting Spike. His friend seemed to be holding his own at the moment, but there was no telling how long that was going to last. Great fighter or not, being basically about seven months pregnant was going to slow a person down.

_ I've got to do something, _ Xander thought, starting to panic a bit. Maybe if he called out to her, it would distract Faith. And then she'd turn her attention on him. She'd come over to him, slinking along in the skintight black leather outfit she was wearing and.... Memories of her weight pinning him down flooded his mind, the feel of her hands around his neck suddenly more real than anything else.

A sudden shouted word brought him back to himself. Tara's arm was extended, and Faith was standing frozen in the middle of throwing a punch. Tara must have magicked her. He felt weird about that for a moment, thinking of all of the terrible things Willow had done with magic, but shook it off. The blonde witch knew what she was doing. 

"Well, that was a bit of a lark, now wasn't it?" Spike said with a slight smirk as he turned to look at them. Then his expression turned serious. "Anyone got a notion what the bloody hell is going on here?"

Tara hesitated a moment before speaking. "W-we're not entirely sure, bu–"

"Willow," Xander interrupted grimly. Tara may have been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn't. She'd been his best through so much, and then she'd.... "It has to be Willow. She has her magic back."

 

...

 

Willow had her magic back. She stared at her hand, mesmerized. Visible streams of magic flickered between her fingers. She'd been too confused about everything to really notice at first, but now she could see it. She could feel it. After so many months of being only allowed the barest trickle, the magic flowed through her like lightning in her veins. Unfettered, and with no one telling her what she could or couldn't do with it.

A giddy sort of joy bubbled up inside of her. No more weak little Willow. She had the power, now. No one was going to push her around anymore. Not even the Slayer, with her accusations and physical strength.

Buffy was standing there, ready to fight despite being some kind of weird rat person, but she had no idea what was in store for her. Willow would show her. She would....  _ Give her even more reasons not to trust me, _ she thought. The stump of her left arm suddenly ached, seeming to throb in time with the magical energy crackling in her one hand. That happened, sometimes, like some kind of physical manifestation of her conscience poking at her. 

She took a deep breath and let go of most of the power she'd gathered. The rest she spun into a simple detection spell.

"I swear to you that I didn't do this," she said quietly. "I don't know where Spike and Thursday are, but they aren't within ten miles of us. No one is."

"And why should I believe you?" Buffy spat.

Part of Willow was crying out that it wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything wrong. But it was fair. After what she'd.... The whole thing with the demon arm and everything.

"Look, I know I messed up, okay? I...."  _ The arm. _ "I did some terrible things. I know that. But I didn't do this. Why would I make us both all furry? This wouldn't be caused by a mistake. Someone would have to deliberately do this. Please, Buffy, you have to believe me."

She took a step forward, then frowned when she stepped on something. What was...? A scroll? She picked it up and opened it.

"What is that?" Buffy asked. She still sounded suspicious and angry, but her stance had relaxed a little.

"I'm not sure." Willow unrolled it and squinted at the fancy writing. The moonlight was bright enough to really make it out, so she tucked the parchment between her arm and body so she could summon a ball of light above the palm of her hand. Then she set it free to float so she could read the words out loud.

_ "Round and round upon the wheel _ _   
_ _ The time that passes, is it real? _ _   
_ _ Wizard and Prince, rats caught by the hour, _ _   
_ _ Shall they ever reach the tower? _ _   
_ _ The Prince's Demon and Princess fair, _ _   
_ _ The Jester and the Enchantress there. _ _   
_ _ Run, run, through the maze _ _   
_ _ Ignore the passing of the days. _ _   
_ _ When the Prince and lover share a kiss _ _   
_ __ It fixes all that is amiss. "

Willow frowned at the paper. "What's that all supposed to mean?"

"It means," Buffy said, voice tight and a little strange. Willow looked up to see that she was staring at something behind her. "that Spike and Thursday are locked up in that tower over there. My demon and my little princess. Xander is probably the jester and the enchantress.... That's probably Tara."

Someone had Xander and Tara locked up? Along with Spike and Thursday? That was very much of the not good. They had to find them. They had to.... Willow blinked as something Buffy had said suddenly registered. "That tower over there?"

Buffy pointed, and Willow turned to follow the direction. A white tower loomed in the distance, and she was pretty sure it hadn't been there before.

"That appeared when you started reading. I'm not sure I can trust you, but it looks like we're going to have to work together on this. Truce?"

Buffy held out her hand. Willow stared at it, feeling like she was going to be sick. Truce, as if she was an enemy the slayer had to team up with for the greater good. She swallowed back the pain and tucked the parchment away again so she could take Buffy's hand.

"Truce," she said through a throat clogged with the sandpaper of misery.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite the fact that she’d actually been one for a few hours back in high school, Buffy had no idea if real rats sweated or not. Rat people definitely did, though, and it was much of the grossness. Wherever they were had two big, bright suns blazing in the sky, beating down on her as she trudged through a sea of brambles, making her fur all damp and unpleasant.

_ At least the fur keeps the thorns from scratching up my skin, _ she thought, trying to focus on the positive. The countryside was actually really pretty, fields of purple-ish green brambles stretching out towards what looked kind of like a hedge maze. Beyond that was the tower perched on a mound of rock, so white and gleaming that looking at it too long made her eyes water.

Her baby, pregnant boyfriend, and two of her best friends were trapped in there, held captive by whoever had done this to them. Buffy frowned slightly and glanced over her shoulder at Willow. She’d decided that the witch probably hadn’t done this, but they never had figured out who had. They hadn’t really given it any discussion, either.

_ So, who do you think did this, anyway? Someone pissed off about that pod people magic you did, and they’re spilling it over onto the rest of us, too? _ The words fluttered through her mind, but she didn’t say them. Mainly because it didn’t make any sense, but also because she didn’t want to stir anything up. Not right now. Not when she was so conflicted about Willow.

The first friend she’d made in Sunnydale. Someone who had made a lot of mistakes with her magic and a lot of bad choices, including helping with keeping Spike captive so he’d have Buffy’s baby. And then she’d lost her arm while helping to rescue Spike and said baby. Who Willow had later tried to erase from existence.

Rage flared up at the thought, and Buffy had to stop for a moment and just breathe.  _ Willow is here to help, _ she told herself. Well, actually, Willow was there because she’d been dragged into whatever this was and turned into a rat person, too. But still, she was willing to help rescue the people they cared about. She needed to be calm, and they needed to work together. That was the only way to take care of Thursday and Aliena. The only way to keep them safe. 

“Buffy?” Willow panted, looking at her questioningly. She was out of breath and drenched in sweat.

“Let’s take a break,” Buffy said reluctantly.

She wanted to keep going. But while running pellmell towards danger would satisfy both the protective instinct and her basic Buffy instinct, it wasn’t really the best idea ever. There was no telling what they might have to fight once they got to the tower, so they needed to conserve their energy..

Willow glanced down at the brambles then at her again before hesitantly reaching out her hand and murmuring something. A patch of the greenery in front of them withered away into dust.

“It’s, um, a weeding spell. Not dangerous or anything, and the dust is actually a nutrient rich plant food. I was taught to use for the gardens. And, um, it uses less energy than trying to clear a place to sit.”

Buffy took a slow, deep breath, counting to ten. Seeing things turn to dust so wasn’t what she needed right now, and she wasn’t exactly happy about Willow doing magic, but Willow was right. And her magic would be useful in other ways. It was stupid to be opposed to it when it was helping. Buffy walked to the bare patch and sat down on the hard ground. They’d rest for a little bit, and then they’d continue on.

_ Hold on, guys, _ she thought, trying not to think of whatever horrible things might be happening to them.  _ We’re coming for you. _

 

**…**

 

Spike didn’t get captured every other week or so like some of the Scoobies seemed to, but in over twelve decades of life, it had happened a fair number of times. And out of all of those times, he had to admit this was this most posh and comfortable prison he’d ever been stuck in. The entire lot of them had moved out into the main room, and he was sat near a roaring fire, soaking up the warmth. The chair he’d claimed was like sitting on a cloud that somehow had bloody brilliant lumbar support.

_ When we find whoever locked us up here, _ he thought,  _ I’m going to ask where they get their furniture. _ Then he’d rip the wanker’s heart out and eat the sodding thing. Well, maybe not that last bit. Depended on the species and if he was still peckish ‘round then, didn’t it? Would eating a heart count as both taking in blood and human food? It wasn’t the same as a liver, but pair it up with some fava beans, hold the nice chianti, and you had a decent bit of nosh.

He let himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Soul or no, he was still a vampire, and his sessions with Ben had managed to convince him there was nothing wrong with a bit of dark fantasy. Was healthy, even.

A loud  _ thud _ and a grunt pulled him from his thoughts. Faith was attacking the walls again, even though they’d already determined the bloody things were all magicked up to keep them from breaking free. Not that he was one to throw stones there, mind, considering he’d been doing the same for the past couple of hours or so. Bang on the walls, try to pick the lock on the door that didn’t lead to a bedroom or loo, and then sit his arse down by the fire to warm up before he got too cold.

Spike’s gaze drifted towards Tara. While Faith attacked the walls and Xander paced nervously, Tara was sat in another one of the chairs, a book on enchanting spread across her lap as she held a gold bracelet. It was meant to be a replacement for the warming amulet he’d left on the bedside table back home.

Looking at her, a few snatches of verse wriggled through his thoughts, but he pushed it aside. They hadn’t the time for woolgathering or poetry. If their captors meant to keep them alive, they’d eventually have to be fed. More like than not, they had a way to do that that wouldn’t allow for escape, but you never knew until you tried. 

“We should be doing something,” Faith insisted, apparently bored with punching the walls. For now, anyway.

No doubt she’d be back at it, possibly after trying to start up another row. It was the sort of thing he’d have done — was fighting the urge for, in fact — to take his mind off things if not for the sprog. He didn’t much care for the bloody bint, but he did understand her. She was the sort who needed action, needed the feel of flesh striking flesh to feel alive and whole.

If not for the things she’d done to Xander — and the fact that he and the boy had bonded over those things — he might have got on better with her. What she’d done to Buffy was terrible, but, well, they’d been enemies, hadn’t they? Two slayers, evenly matched and on opposite sides. Couldn’t really blame her or throw stones there, considering his own history with Buffy.

Xander, though, was just a normal human. No super strength or deep well of magical power, but he was there in the thick of things, risking life and limb to do what was right. It took courage, that, and Faith had used and abused him. Dismissed him as just a body to get her jollies with without caring about the person inside that body. 

Spike’s hands clenched into fists as he remembered moments of quietly and obliquely shared trauma during bouts of video games. As he remembered times when he’d been treated as just a body. A bloody sex toy only good for someone else’s enjoyment. Angelus, Darla, even Dru sometimes…. At least what Buffy had done to him was because she’d been under the control of the ritual.

Before his dark thoughts could get any darker, there was an odd popping sound. Three covered trays on a table suddenly appeared in the center of the room, along with a young girl. She looked to be about ten or eleven, blonde and dressed in a simple white frock. Why the bloody hell would their captors send in a little girl?

And then it hit him. Three trays, but four of them, and nothing what looked or smelt like a mug or bag of blood. Oh god. He was meant to…. She was….

In the back of his mind, he realized there was something off about the girl, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t even see her anymore. Just the countless children he’d slaughtered, their screams of pain and terror dragging him down into a sea of innocent blood.

 

**…**

 

The baby was screaming again. It was very unpleasant and most likely scaring some of the customers away, but Anya understood. She wanted to scream, too, but that would definitely scare most of the customers. Then they’d take their wonderful money away, and she wouldn’t have that to distract herself from Xander being missing.

She glanced over at the others. Giles, the witches, and Dawn were all huddled around the research table, working to figure things out while Buffy’s mother walked towards the training room with Thursday in her arms.  _ And I am manning the till. _ It was her contribution, making sure everything ran smoothly so the others wouldn’t be distracted. So they could focus on getting Xander back to her.

They still had no idea who had taken him and the others, but when they found out…. Anya’s thoughts drifted back to her glory days. She’d caused more death and destruction than any vampire. She’d been the instrument of tortures far more creatively terrible than even Angelus could have devised. She was adjusting to being a human again, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss the old days. The power of being an embodiment of vengeance. If she could rain that down on whoever had taken her man….

The bell above the door rang, and her attention snapped onto the newcomer. It was that rat girl from yesterday. She slunk in, all hunched in on herself and looking miserable. Since she probably wasn’t there to spend money, she’d just be a distraction getting in the way of finding Xander. Before she could say as much and tell the girl to go away, Giles stood up.

“Amy, is everything alright?” he asked.

She just hugged herself and wouldn’t look at anyone.

“We’re very busy right now,” Anya said. “Either spend money or go away.” After a beat, she added in “please,” remembering Xander’s talks about politeness. 

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Amy mumbled. “I was drunk and upset, and she seemed so nice.”

“Who seemed nice?” Giles asked.

“Sera. I was upset and I… I wished, and she said…. I didn’t know what she was until after the wish, I swear.”

Wish. Anya’s eyes widened in dismay. Rat girl was coming to them to confess a wish on the day when their loved ones and that skanky slayer had vanished. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Well, it could have been — Anya had seen a lot of bizarre coincidences in her time — but she didn’t think it was. And it had been Sera who had granted the wish. 

_ I never should have invited her to the bridal shower. _

But Sera was her friend — or had been — despite the annoying games she liked to play. She had always had such a god complex. Instead of going in and getting the job done with some creativity and flair, she liked to set up escape clauses. Then she’d tell the victims of the wish about them. But the thing was, she always made them impossible to achieve. 

 

**…**

 

Buffy just stared at the tall mound of rocks for a moment. They’d made it. Well, almost. They still had to climb that tall mound of rocks and get inside of the tower, but they’d made it through the hedge maze and to the base of the mound. It had been a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. She’s kind of figured Willow would be able to use her plant poofing powers or that her own slayer strength would be able to rip through the shrubs. No dice on that. Something had protected the maze walls from both magic and strength. Luckily, though, it had all worked on the nasty little critters living inside of the maze.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before taking a step towards the rock mound. Time to get this rescue going.

“Wait,” Willow called out, lightly grabbing her shoulder. “There’s something weird here.”

Buffy glanced at her, then back at the rock mound with a slight frown. Was it her imagination, or did the entire thing look like it’d inched over to the left just a bit? Okay, that was majorly of the weird. Rock mounds with towers sticking out of them didn’t normally do that. Probably. She stared hard, giving it more intense focus than she had before. It seemed to waver oddly, like the mirage of a fantastic shoe store in a run down mall.

“Okay,” she said finally, “what’s up with this? And what do we do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Willow answered. She took her hand off of Buffy’s shoulder and held it near the rock mound. “It feels like…. It feels like maybe the tower isn’t really in the same plane as us. Like might not even be in sync.”

Might not even be in sync? What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t even really care, honestly, she just wanted to get in there and get her man, baby, and friends. She took another step forward and reached out for a good handhold on the rock….

_ She was wandering through the halls, trying to find her class, but she couldn’t remember the room number. How long had it been since she’d been to any of her classes anyway? Oh, god, she couldn’t remember. Horrible, sickening dread dropped on her like a two-ton stone. She was going to flunk. She was going to flunk, and her mother was going to be so disappointed, and she was suddenly colder than she had been because she was naked and…. _

Buffy’s eyes snapped open, and she slowly sat up, feeling sick. She’d started to climb, and now here she was, waking up in the dark. Having the same damn dream in what was probably the same damn meadow. She ran her hands over her clothes and body. No tears or wounds. No sweat or dirt. No fatigue or thirst after a long day in the heat. They’d been sent back to the beginning. 


	9. Chapter 9

Screams echoed. High pitched and full of terror before they were cut off, the delicate little throats collapsing from the savagery of his bite. Tender flesh torn asunder to release the elixir held within.

_“…isn’t good for… or… aby.”_

Spike could almost taste it. Hot and sweet and salty and a bit like the smell of new pennies. And over all of it, the sizzling tingle of life essence, so full of untapped potential, an endless stream of days that would never come. The blood of children.

He’d killed so many of them in his twelve decades of unlife, slaughtering entire orphanages full of tasty little treats at times. They were Dru’s favorite, and even on the rare occasions when he didn’t join in on the feast, he’d help her with it. _Run and catch run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch._ He’d been the blackberry patch, catching fast to those innocent little lambs, his thorns bloodying them, staining their wool with streaks of red….

_“…do something. There’s a spell, but… invasive.”_

_“I don’t think… ind.”_

Dead eyed kiddies stood all about with rivers of blood flowing from them, and a part of him wanting to splash about in it all, laughing in glee and drinking his fill. But most of him… most of him was horrified and sick at the thought. At the memories. Oh god. Oh, God, he didn’t want to think on it all, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Guilt and shame and a strength-sapping feeling of being cold, and running through it all was the desire to sink his fangs into something and feed and feed until….

Spike was suddenly aware of his surroundings again as utter calm settled over him. He’d somehow ended up backed into a corner, too far from the fireplace for it to keep him warm enough. Well, that explained the cold then, didn’t it? Tara and Xander were crowded around him, looking worried while Faith was off a ways, looking like she’d been slapped in the gob with a trout. Wasn’t the best look ever for her, though the demony horns and the spade-tipped tail really were kind of adorable, weren’t they?

A goofy grin spread across his face. How would Buffy look with horns and a tail? His cute Buffy-wuffy with a waggly wittle tail and….

“Spike? Hey, you okay, man?”

He blinked slowly and focused on Xander. Xander, the Xan-man, his very good friend. He was going to be the best man when the boy tied the knot with his ex-vengeance demon. They should go out and have a beer together. No, wait, couldn’t do that yet. Bad for the sprog. But there were other ways to be friends.

“I love you, mate,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around the other man and squeezing him hard enough to make him squeak.

Oops, right, human. Fragile things, humans were, and needed to do that breathing thing. Breathing was a pleasant sort of thing, wasn’t it? Spike eased his hold in Xander a bit, then nuzzled his neck and breathed in his scent. Wood and sweat and a bit taco-y. Sort of odd, if you thought about it. Shouldn’t the boy smell of pizza more than tacos?

“Um…yeah, I love you, too,” Xander said, awkwardly patting him on the back. “Tara?”

“Sorry,” Tara said quietly. “It should wear off in a minute or two. Let’s get him back over to the fire.”

Spike let them lead him over to the comfy chair by the fireplace. Such a nice chair, with a good ottoman paired with it. The entire place was bloody fantastic, really. Well, if not for the whole being locked in thing. _Or that girl I’m meant to be eating,_ he thought uneasily as he looked over at her. Revulsion seeped in through the slowly fading… whatever it was that Tara had done to snap him out of things.

He’d the vague notion he should be right brassed about her manipulating his emotions, but, well, had been a good idea, hadn’t it? A predator having a bit of a freak out wasn’t exactly the safest thing ever, after all. And then there was Aliena to consider. Him being that distressed wasn’t good for her. 

Either way, whatever bit of magic Tara had cast on him wasn’t gone yet, which let him study the girl without risk of getting overwhelmed again. Was something… _off_ about the chit. She was just sort of stood there, a blank expression on a face that was just a little too perfect. Everything was absolutely symmetrical and her skin was flawless.

He took a deep breath through his nose, then slowly let it out. Yeah, even her scent was off. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t a human little girl. A fact he would have snapped to right quick under normal circumstances. These were hardly normal circumstances though, were they? Kidnapped and on edge from not knowing where Thursday was or if she was safe or not. All that worry about his own kid, then having something that looked like a young girl offered as his only food source other than the people he’d been kidnapped with.

Add to that the fact that he’d all sorts of odd things going on in his body because of Aliena, and it was no wonder he’d been hit with memories of his not-so-glory days. The fact that was the children haunting his nightmares the most didn’t help any.

He was alright now, though. As the last of Tara’s feel good spell wore off, he was left just feeling tired and sick, but not in any immediate danger of getting caught up in his memories again. At least his nightmares hadn’t intruded too much on the memories, painting the kids with the face he’d seen for Thursday in the slayer dreams of hers he’d shared when he was carrying her.

“I think it’s a construct, or something like that,” Tara said, interrupting his thoughts.

The thing finally showed a reaction, focusing on Tara. “Yes,” it said in a soft, breathy little voice. “I’m a magical construct full of human blood that will refill as needed.”

Spike shuddered at the thought of draining the thing to the point where it would need to refill. If they were here for long enough, he would do it. Bite into its too-perfect flesh and drink it down. Vampires couldn’t starve to death, and he was far enough along that Aliena probably wouldn’t drain his energy to the point where he turned to dust, taking her with him. But malnutrition could cause early labor in late term human women. He wasn’t going to do that to Aliena. Or to Buffy, who had already missed the birth of one child.

He put those worries on the back burner as he glanced around at the others. A competent witch, a young man who had survived for years fighting above his pay grade, and a slayer. And a vampire with a knack for landing on his feet, no matter how bad of a situation he found himself in. They were a resourceful group. If anyone could get out of this mess right quick, it would be the four of them.

 

**...**

 

It wasn’t something you ever really got used to. Staying behind and unable to do anything to really help while your child was out in danger. All Joyce could do most of the time was stand on the sidelines, watching and waiting. It was like having a child in the military. Or maybe more like a police officer in a crime-ridden city. There were support groups for that, the parents of cops. Nothing for the parents of slayers.

It was torture, having to wait and watch while time after time your child went out to literally fight the monsters. Buffy was tough and strong and capable, Joyce had no doubt of that. And while it had taken her a while to adjust to the whole slayer thing, she was proud of her little girl. And there was the hard part. Her little girl. Whenever Buffy went on a routine patrol, whenever she had to save the world from some terrible apocalypse yet again, Joyce didn’t see the competent young woman boldly doing her duty with a group of friends as support. She saw her little girl, hair up in pigtails, hands on hips, feet planted, red shirt tied like a cape around her fragile shoulders as she declared herself Power Girl, protector of all.

This time, though…. This time, there might just be something she could do. Tara’s friends from the Wicca group and the witches who had escorted Willow to Sunnydale were all out, trying to find any trace of Sera, leaving her, Dawn, Giles, and an increasingly agitated Anya to hold the fort at the store. She gave them all a quick look, then slipped away into Buffy’s training room, where poor little Thursday was fitfully sleeping in her car seat.

Joyce’s purse was on the floor near the baby, and she quietly reached into it to pull out her cell phone and a business card. Sera had been standoffish at Anya’s bridal shower, but she and Hallie had hit it off pretty well. If Joyce had understood the vengeance ( _justice. She prefers justice_ ) demon correctly, the fact that Thursday had been affected by this wish meant they had a way to get some help.

She took a slow, deep breath and just stared at the card for a moment. _If I mess this up…._ No, she wasn’t going to mess this up. She wasn’t a slayer or a witch or a vampire or anything like that, but she was a mother, damn it. She was strong, and she was going to do this right and get her little girl back. She squared her shoulders in determination and punched in the number, pulling on the mantle of confidence she used when dealing with people at the gallery.

“Hello, Hallie, this is Joyce Summers,” she said once the phone had been answered. “We met at Anya’s bridal shower the other day.”

The woman on the other end of the line sighed. “If this is about Sera, I already told Anya there’s nothing I can do. I have no idea where she is, and–”

“Do you accept wishes made on behalf of children who can’t ask for their own justice?” Joyce interrupted. There was a long moment of silence, which at least wasn’t a quick no.

“Yes,” Hallie finally said. “Yes, I do.”

“In that case, I wish, on behalf of my granddaughter who had her parents and unborn sister unjustly taken away from her, for the wish Sera granted for Amy to be undone.”

“Oh, very clever,” Hallie murmured appreciatively. “Normally I couldn’t…hmm.” Another moment of terrible silence, then a laugh. “This should work. I can’t just undo the wish of another justice demon, but because of Sera’s stupid fixation on building in escape clauses, I should be able to throw a wrench into things. Wish granted, my dear.”

 

**...**

 

The vampire had a soul. At least, Faith was pretty sure he did. Maybe whacked out preggo brain explained some things, but not all of it. Backing into a corner while staring in horror at some weird ass kid offered for breakfast seemed like the kind of thing you needed a soul for. Or maybe Spike was just freaked out because he didn’t know where the brat had been and didn’t want to eat something weird while carrying a baby.

Always possible, but Faith had known from the start that something wasn’t quite adding up. She would have connected all of the dots sooner, but as much as she was trying to hide it, even from herself, she was in panic mode. A bunch of evil lawyers on her tail, wanting to get her or Angel or some random ass vampire knocked up over and over again to make an army of slaypires. With the safety measures that had been built into the spell worked around, they could just bring in a bunch of vamps and have her sex them all up. She’d be nothing but their whore.

_Little girls are only good for one thing. Gotta earn your keep, Faithy…._

Faith shivered and hugged herself, watching as Tara and Xander worried over Spike and his stress levels. She wanted to think it was all about the kid, but she could tell it wasn’t. Spike wasn’t just some good looking vampire B had turned into her own personal fuck toy. He was part of their group. The way she had been, before….

Her mind drifted back to that night, when she’d plunged a stake into a beating heart, killing a human when she’d thought she was dusting just another vamp. She’d been battered and bruised before that night, but still holding on. Still more or less in one piece. But that had been enough to finally break her. Too much pressure on her weak points, and she’d crumbled inside.

She forced her thoughts away from that while forcing her body to be loose and relaxed. She was fine. Five by five, bitches. Nothing ever got her down. She watched as the other two humans led a spelled-up Spike over to sit by the fire. _So, can I join the orgy, too, or is it members only?_ Before the words could come out, a verbal shield to hide how vulnerable she felt, everything suddenly shook violently, knocking Faith to the floor.

It lasted for a long moment of loud noise and vibrations, then stopped. And when Faith looked up, she saw a huge crack in the wall, letting sunlight stream into their prison.


	10. Chapter 10

“Okay… I’m calling for a break,” Xander panted out, bending and grabbing his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Several years of patrolling along with two or so of off-and-on construction work – plus lots of vigorous “exercise” with Anya – meant that he wasn’t the most out-of-shape guy ever, but tromping through a forest while two suns beat down on him was still exhausting.

“Come on, Xan, I thought you had more stamina than this,” Faith said. Something about the look in her eyes as she glanced back at him made him uneasy. Her comment wasn’t overtly about the things she’d done, but….

He shook the thought away. He was probably projecting or something. Yeah, okay, so she’d used him once and had tried to rape him. That didn’t have to be the end-all, be-all of their interactions together. He took a slow, deep breath. It wasn’t _right_ that she’d done it, but dwelling when there wasn’t really anything he could do wasn’t going to help things. It was just going to hurt him, and possibly get in the way of their survival in this weird place.

“Boy’s got plenty of stamina,” Spike said with a wicked little smirk as he turned back towards Xander. Then he did that _thing_ with his tongue. “Get him all worked up, and he can wield the old pool cue all night long.”

Okay, that was obviously sexual innuendo, even though he was clearly talking about their weekly pool playing dates at the Bronze. Probably. Weirdly enough, it actually helped, transforming the uncomfortable moment into playful banter.

“You’re not too shabby with a cue yourself, my friend,” Xander said, deciding to go with it.

“Damn right I’m not,” Spike said with another smirk. Then he stretched, one hand pushing against his lower back while the other rested on his belly, before plonking himself down on a convenient log to bask in the light from the suns.

Xander shuddered, reminded of those frightening few minutes – or, well, more frightening than the whole being kidnapped and all – up in the tower they’d been trapped in. Everything had shaken, almost like an earthquake, though his native Californian instincts had insisted that wasn’t quite what was happening, and one of the walls had cracked, bathing them all in sunlight. Spike had bolted out of the light like a cat with water dumped over it, but as fast as he had been, he still should have at least caught on fire a little bit. He hadn’t even been singed, so apparently one sun was flaming death for vampires while two was just fine. A literal sunny walk in the park.

Spike had blinked, stuck his hand into the path of the sunlight, then had basically just shrugged and jumped into helping Faith destroy the wall enough for them to escape. That was something Xander had always kind of admired about the vampire. He always did know how to just roll with things.

“We’re having a break?” Tara asked as she caught up with them, and Xander went from feeling kind of pathetic about needing one to guilty for not insisting on one sooner.

They hadn’t been able to find any other clothes, so Tara was still weighed down by a gown made of layers of blue and white silk. She was also probably exhausted from all of the magic, making the warming bracelet for Spike along with helping them all – mainly Xander himself – get out of the tower without breaking their necks. And she’d been riding herd on the kid-shaped blood bag thing. Not exactly tiring, but seriously creeptastic.

Xander glanced at the thing and shuddered again. It seemed like an innocent little girl until you got a good look at it. Then the uncanny valley concept kicked in, the near-perfect humanity of it making it somehow more alien than even the weirdest looking demon. Hopefully they’d find a way back home before Spike had to feed off of it.

Back home….

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a slow, deep breath as images of Anya played through his mind. An odd sort of mix of mature and childlike as she rediscovered her humanity. One moment she was clearly an ancient being with vast amounts of knowledge, and then the other, she was like a half-grown kitten with its first grasshopper. Tough and no-nonsense, but also so vulnerable in some ways. Would she know what had happened? Or would she think he’d abandoned her, running away at the thought of marriage?

Xander took another deep breath and opened his eyes. They’d get home. He knew they would. Either they’d figure it all out on their own, or Buffy would rescue them. He was betting on the latter. Buffy always came through. She’d figure out a way to get them back home, to the people they loved.

 

**...**

 

They kept failing. _She_ kept failing, and that was something Willow had never dealt with very well. It preyed on her mind as she sat in front of the cook fire, watching over the fish and vegetables roasting in the coals. They were camped by a river, taking a break for food and for Buffy to relieve the pressure in her breasts by using her hands to pump out the extra milk.

Once that was done and they’d eaten, she knew Buffy would insist they continue towards the tower. No matter how much they’d tried, they couldn’t get to it. It gleamed in the light, temptingly close, but it might as well have been on the moon. If they touched the mound of rocks the tower rose from, she and Buffy would find themselves back at the beginning, waking up in the meadow in the night.

If the suns went down, they ended up back at the beginning. If both of them fell asleep, they ended up back at the beginning. And if Willow used her magic in any way to get them inside, they ended up back at the beginning.

She stared down at her hand, letting the magic manifest as little sparks leaping from finger to finger. It would have been a major waste of magic when she’d been under the binding of the coven. Now, though, she had a well at her command instead of just a single glass.

 _But nowhere near what I had when…._ Willow shuddered and tried to push the thought away. It refused to go. When she’d sucked all of that magic out of the books to summon the demon arm, she’d opened herself up, increasing her capacity for magic. If she could just fill that reservoir all the way up….

She couldn’t help glancing towards Buffy. The other woman was just sitting there, her shirt – which looked like a blue version of the one worn by the prince in Cinderella – on the ground beside her, showing off the white fur covering her torso as she massaged one of her breasts, gazing off into the distance towards the tower. Willow was kind of glad for the fur they both had right now. She was pretty sure it hid her blush as she tore her gaze away.

She let herself dwell on the fact that half-naked ratBuffy was kind of sexy because it was way more comfortable than the other thoughts lurking in the back of her mind. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. The thoughts took over. If she just had more magic, maybe she could power through whatever was running them through this loop. And here she was, sitting next to someone with superpowers and a mystical destiny as the Chosen One. If she just tapped into that power….

She was pretty sure she could do it, and that wouldn’t cause Buffy any real harm. _One of the problems with you, Will, is you always think you know best. You never stop to consider the consequences._ The voice in her head was Spike’s, the words ones he’d said to her a lot during their phone conversations. The stump of her left arm ached, reminding her of the demonic replacement and all of the things she’d done under its influence.

She’d hurt everyone so badly, to the point where not even Xander wanted to talk to her. And now he was trapped in that tower, along with Tara. God, she missed Tara. Talking quietly, exploring their magic together, gentle touches and caresses, warm cuddles. It had all been ruined because of what Willow had done with the arm. An arm she’d grown with forbidden magic, convinced that power was power, and neither good and evil in and of itself. She’d thought only what you did with it mattered.

 _But I was wrong,_ she thought, absently rubbing her stump. Those books had been forbidden for a reason, and she’d been wrong to suck up their power. Just like it would be wrong to tap into Buffy’s power without asking, no matter the results. But Buffy didn’t trust her. How would she convince her to go along with the idea?

She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Magic could do it, but that would ultimately destroy the possibility of any real trust. That just left her with words.

“There might be a way,” she said quietly, looking back over at Buffy. “To get into the tower.”

Buffy just looked at her, eyes narrowed and ratlike ears pinned back in an expression of wariness. Part of Willow wanted to just shut up and pretend she’d never thought of anything. But that wasn’t going to solve things. She took another deep breath and launched into her explanation.

 

**...**

 

Tara had no idea what kind of sentient creatures called this dimension home, but apparently they had little cabins in the woods about the right size for humans. The one they’d found and broken into – after Spike checked the area out and assured them that no one had been there in a while – was a bit on the small side, but more because it seemed to be designed for only one or two people. There was only one bed for example, just barely big enough for two. Obviously, one of those two was going to be Spike. As for the other person….

“So, who gets the bed?” Faith asked as she prowled around. The barely contained energy of her seemed to take up more than her fair share of the small building. “We going to rock, paper, scissor it, or wrassle things out?”  She cracked her knuckles, looking like she’d really enjoy the second option.

“Yeah, like that’s fair,” Xander muttered, eying the slayer warily. He was standing as far from her as he could get while still being inside, his back against one wall.

 _Well, that answers that,_ Tara thought as she moved farther into the cabin, the little girl construct following docilely behind her. She’d worried that it might give off some kind of alarm when they escaped, but apparently its only purpose was to provide blood for Spike, a packed lunch with the ability to move around on its own. Spike, who was poking at the fireplace at the moment, hadn’t fed from the thing yet, insisting that he was fine because he’d had more than the usual four ounces of slayer blood only an hour or two before they’d been kidnapped. She wouldn’t push it – yet – since too much stress would be as bad as malnutrition right now. If necessary, she and Xander could give him a little bit of blood. Maybe Faith as well, if she was willing, though with the demon horns and tail, it was possible that her blood wouldn’t be human enough to count.

Tara shook her head and shelved that line of thought. They’d deal with that later. For now, they needed to find some more food and get the sleeping arrangements sorted out.  The bed had plenty of blankets, and floating one just an inch or two should make the floor at least a bit more comfortable. She didn’t like throwing magic around for any little thing, but the better rested they were, the better they’d be able to deal with things.

“Spike and Xander get the bed,” she said. Taking charge was still strange and uncomfortable for her, despite leading the Wicca group, but she was able to keep her words slow and even so she didn’t stutter.

Faith turned towards her, hands on hips. “Who died and put you in charge?”

“I did,” Spike said, fiddling with the fireplace more, then standing back as the fire caught. Then he sauntered over to the bed and sprawled across it, hands tucked under his head. “A smidge over a hundred years, at that. The dying part, leastwise. As eldest and most experienced, I should be in charge, and I abdicate in favor of the witch.”

Faith narrowed her eyes, but didn’t protest. Not about the being in charge, anyway. “So, what, ‘fearless leader,’ you think the delicate little boys need the comfy bed?”

Part of her wanted to just drop her eyes and scuttle off to a corner somewhere, but Tara kept her head held high. She could do this. Spike believed in her, and she knew her other friends did, too. With Xander clearly afraid of Faith and Spike rightfully more concerned with Aliena’s wellbeing, it was up to her to keep things together.

“I… I think,” she took a slow, deep breath, “I _know_ that someone in their third trimester shouldn’t be sleeping on a floor or with someone they don’t trust. I also know that there’s no way in hell you’re sleeping next to Xander. So just put on your big girl panties and get used to the idea that you’re sleeping on the floor with me.”

The look in the other woman’s eyes changed. Something between a flinch and grudging respect. “Whatever you say, boss lady.”

She went back to pacing the cabin, and Tara glanced over to Xander to see how he was doing. Embarrassment. A little resentment. Gratitude. That last made confronting Faith absolutely worth it.

She wasn’t going to resort to slinging magic around for any and every problem, but she was going to do whatever she reasonably could to keep everyone healthy and alive through this. She could do it. She knew she could.

 

**...**

 

“Oh, hell no,” Buffy said after hearing Willow’s idea. It was insane, though, of course, Willow wouldn’t see it that way. She never seemed to think about the consequences of her actions, and the last time she’d sucked up a bunch of power….

“Buffy–”

“There’s no way I can trust you,” she said harshly, cutting Willow off. The other woman winced and looked away, grabbing at the stump of her left arm. A twinge of guilt flashed through Buffy, but she shoved it down. “The last time you sucked up a bunch of power, you took over Sunnydale. You degraded the people who cared about you the most. You set me up to be raped by an ex. And worst of all….” She had to stop for a moment and clench her fists before she took a swing. “Worst of all, you tried to erase my baby from existence. I can never, _never_ , trust you.”

Willow just stared down at the ground, not saying anything for a moment. Probably feeling like Buffy wasn’t being fair and about to go on about how it wasn’t her fault. That it had all been the arm. Some of it had been, and Buffy was willing to admit that. But the arm hadn’t forced Willow to do anything. It had just allowed her to do it without caring as much about the consequences, a problem she had already had, though to a lesser extent.

“I….” Willow swallowed hard, then finally looked up at her, misery in her green eyes. “I messed up,” she whispered. Then she smiled, a pained, twisted expression. “I get it now, I think. Spike was the only one who would take my calls, and he kept saying…. He said that I couldn’t blame the arm. I… the things I did….” She stopped and just breathed for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry. I messed up. Me. Not the arm. I acted on all of the things inside of me. Spike kept saying it was kind of like being a vampire, and….”

And Spike didn’t cut himself any kind of slack for the things he’d done before he’d gotten his soul, even though Buffy thought he should. She closed her eyes, struggling to figure out the right thing to do. Willow had never lost her soul, and Spike had been able to do good even without his, but she’d had her inhibitions taken away. By her own actions, but if she hadn’t known that was going to happen…. Behind her closed lids, Buffy saw it again, Spike, his face covered with his own blood as he held Thursday, hurt and confused from his memories of both baby and soul being suppressed. Willow had hurt them all, but it helped, a bit, that she was finally taking responsibility for it.

Buffy wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive. She knew she could never just forget. But maybe, with Spike and both babies in danger….

She opened her eyes and held out her hand. “Take what you need,” she said quietly.

Willow’s hand closed around hers after a moment of hesitation, some sort of warm power tingling along her skin followed by the feeling of energy draining from her. Darkness hovered around the edges of her vision, like she was about to pass out. Then….

Buffy suddenly found herself in a strange, blurry room. What the…? What had happened? Did Willow do it? Where they in the tower? She frowned slightly in confusion and slowly turned, looking around. No sign of Willow.

“Buffy.” Spike’s voice, rough with longing. She whirled towards him, ready to run in his direction, then froze, heart aching.

He was there, dressed in his usual clothes of tight black t-shirt and jeans and leather coat. The first two shouldn’t have fit him, but they did, almost tight enough to be a second skin. Two girls, about six and seven, stood behind him, peering around his back to look at her like she was a stranger.

Oh god. She’d lost track of time with all of the restarts, but she’d had no idea she’d lost so much. She felt sick. She’d missed the birth of her child. Again. And so many of their milestones.

“Who’s that, daddy?” one of the girls – pale brown wavy hair and hazel eyes, different from the bouncy curls and blue eyes she knew Thursday would have – asked in a British accent.

Hot tears trailed down Buffy’s cheeks. Aliena didn’t even know who she was. Thursday probably wouldn’t either.

She opened her mouth, trying to say that she was their mommy, but nothing would come out. Then her vision blurred, and Aliena was suddenly a baby held tenderly in Spike’s arms.

“She’s your mouth, Slayer,” he said, smiling down at their daughter, who now had a duck bill and feet.

_What the…?_

Everything swirled, and Buffy found herself in a playground, swinging while she watched her daughters play in a sandbox. They were five and six now, but it seemed right, somehow. She glanced over to the side and saw Spike swinging next to her, though out of sync. He was a little bit see-through and wearing a surprisingly flattering burgundy dress with black trim. He was also still very pregnant.

“Never gonna catch up if you keep swinging like that, love,” he pointed out.

“What am I doing wrong?” she asked with a frown. She was good at swinging, and she seemed to be doing it right. Legs out, then fold them back in. She tried to change her speed, but nothing she did seemed to put them in sync.

“Sometimes you gotta go backwards in order to move ahead, yeah?”

Backwards in order to move ahead? For some reason, that seemed to make a lot of sense. She planted her legs down, stopping all movement. Then she pushed off from the ground, propelling herself backwards with enough strength that the swing flipped all the way up and over the bar of the swingset.

Spike smirked at her as they swung together, perfectly in time. “Knew you’d figure it out. Eventually.”

Being all mature and stuff, Buffy stuck her tongue out at him. God, it was so good to be with him again. Except, she wasn’t really with him, was she? She tried not to think about that, and to hold onto things as something began to tug at her. She fought it, but couldn’t stop herself from pulled into the same damn dream of being lost and naked at school.

She held on to the memories of the swingset as she stumbled through the dream, and then her eyes snapped open. She was back in the meadow again. Usually, she’d immediately head towards the tower.  Not this time.

“Buffy?” Willow said groggily. “Oh no, it didn’t work.”

She sounded lost and dismayed, but they didn’t have time for that. “Doesn’t matter,” Buffy told her. “I know what we have to do.”

Then she turned and started walking. Away from the tower and into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't watched Angel, it's established as canon there that, in the Buffyverse, vampires don't burn in the suns from other dimensions.


	11. Chapter 11

_“It’s all about the hero’s journey, you see,” Spike’s companion rumbled in an upper-crust accent._

_“Well, yeah, no question there,” he agreed, “but that don’t change the facts. Luke’s blander than bloody unbuttered toast and doesn’t fit Lizzie at all.”_

_The black bear sitting across from him raised a brow ridge at that. “What would you suggest, then, my good chap? Princess Leia?” He carefully picked up his delicate teacup in one huge paw and brought it to his muzzle for a sip._

_Spike and the posh bear were in a meadow, having a lovely afternoon tea at a well-stocked table. There were cakes and biscuits and various little crustless sandwiches. The tea service was white bone china with a faint floral motif in pastel blue._

_“Nah, that doesn’t work, either,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Han Solo, I’d think. Lizzie Bennet wasn’t all willy-nilly like her little sis Lydia, but was a rogue in her own way, she was. Mr. Darcy works better as Leia. All stiff and prim until he learns to live a little.”_

_“Be that as it may….”_

Whatever Posh Bear had been saying dissolved away into the mists of dreamland as Aliena decided it was a perfect time to practice both gymnastics and kickboxing. Spike took a deep breath as he drifted up towards wakefulness, taking in the scent of the body he was snuggled up against. Wasn’t the death, earth, and lilacs he’d known for over a hundred years, nor the spice and wildflowers he’d become accustomed to more recently. Sawdust and sunflower seeds along with the ghosts of greasy meals past.

He let his eyes flutter open. They’d curled up on opposite sides of the bed, but at some point, he and Xander had ended up in the middle, snuggled together. Spike had his head resting on the other man’s chest and one leg flung across his middle. Wasn’t the first time they’d ended up all cuddled up, though the other times had involved falling asleep during long video game marathons.

He let himself just wallow in the warmth and odd feeling of safety as he considered the dreams he’d had. He’d bloody well laid an egg in the first, Aliena hatching out into an adorable little duckling/human baby hybrid. That was obviously just as much nonsense as the bear, but that second dream…. Buffy as some sort of rat person seemed as bizarre as the rest, but that dream had felt different. Like the ones he’d experienced while carrying Thursday. Slayer dream, he was sure of it.

A particularly strong kick from Aliena broke into his thoughts, followed by the awareness of hunger as his body got used to the idea that he was awake for now. The scent of the blood rushing through Xander’s veins suddenly became more intense, drowning out everything else. Trapped beneath the boy’s skin, forced to travel the same paths over and over when it should burst free and play across Spike’s tongue on its way–

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced the air out of his lungs, denying himself another whiff of that tantalizing aroma. Bugger. He’d been hoping Buffy’s blood would hold him for a bit longer, but he’d run out of time. Some of the hunger could be appeased with human food, but after that, he was going to need blood. Either from one of the others, or from the _thing_ in child’s clothes they’d brought with them.

Xander shifted a bit under him, murmuring something about Anya. Right then, time to be up and about, wasn’t it? Careful not to wake his friend, Spike wiggled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. A quick look around the small cabin showed that the fire had burned down to glowing embers under the pot of water and grains they’d set up before sleep. Tara and Faith were still on a levitated blanket, as far from each other as they could get. The walking lunchbox was where they’d left it, sitting in a corner and staring straight ahead.

Spike shuddered and looked away. First, porridge and a bit of the jerky they’d found when they’d raided the larder, then he’d sort out the rest. That decided on, he got up and set about getting himself some grub.

Near as they’d been able to figure, they were in a hunting cabin, one set up with a cache of firewood and dried foods. Some of those dried things, like the mushrooms and a few of the herbs, had been deemed unsafe by Tara’s magic, but there was enough to keep them all fed for a few days, at least. The porridge tasted like oatmeal, grits, and peanuts had had some sort of unholy orgy and the jerky was a bit gamey, but not a bad meal, all told. The portion he’d doled out for himself was gone all too quickly, leaving him staring contemplatively at his empty bowl.

Faith would no doubt bitch about it, but the other two wouldn’t mind if he took more than his fair share. Hell, before they’d left the tower, they’d insisted on giving him half of their breakfasts. He sighed and set the bowl aside without filling it again. Wouldn’t be a point to it. He was still hungry, but that was because he needed blood. He’d fed the human bits of Aliena, and now it was time to take care of the vampire parts, along with feeding himself.

 _Could hold out a bit longer. Buffy’s on her way…._ But there was no telling how long it would take. If he was reading the dream right, and there was no guarantee that he was, she was caught up in all of this, too. And possibly a rat person, though that could have just been a spillover from bizarre pregnancy dreams. Either way, she’d been bloody adorable. And she apparently had to go backwards, whatever the sodding hell _that_ meant.

Didn’t always know what was what when it came to some things, his slayer, but she really was clever. She’d get it all sorted. That was her part in all of this. And his…. His was taking care of their little girl. Panic over Thursday tried to creep in and overwhelm him, but he forced it away. She’d been in the dream, too, and there’d been no feeling of danger. If she wasn’t with her mum, chances were she was safe at home with Joyce and Dawn watching over her. She’d be upset, but safe.

Aliena was with him, though, and she needed properly taken care of, which meant taking care of himself. And that meant…. Time to bloody well stop dithering like a right nance. He walked over to the construct and stared down at it. It only looked like a child. Aliena actually was one. It wouldn’t really be harmed if he drank from it while his girl would be if he didn’t. Easy enough choice when he broke it down like that.

“Stand up,” he told it.

“Do you want me to scream or cry?” it asked as it obeyed, head tilting to one side as it offered its throat.

“God, no,” he said with a shudder. Easy decision or no, the bloody thing was still creepy as hell. “Just be quiet and hold out your arm.”

It obeyed again, lifting up one slender arm. He took the delicate wrist in his hand, but didn’t bite into it, instead going for the crook of her arm. He buried his fangs into her flesh, fighting back a moan as the hot, sweet blood flooded into his mouth. Life and warmth and giddy joy as he drank it all down, taking in his fill and beyond.

 

**...**

 

Xander wasn’t exactly the lightest sleeper ever, but he did notice when the person snuggled up against him got out of bed. He opened his eyes a crack, only to be swamped with disorientation when he saw rough wooden beams in place of the familiar spackled ceiling of his bedroom. What the? Where…? Anya? Was Anya okay?

Before he could start to really worry, he remembered. Anya was probably safely back home while he, Spike, Tara, and Faith were in a cabin in the woods. The woods of some strange dimension Willow had likely shoved them into for whatever deranged reason. And if it _was_ Willow who had done it…. _No guarantee Anya is actually safe._

Except Anya was tough and smart and spent a lot of time at the Magic Box. Tara’s Wicca group met there at least once a week, practicing by layering protection spells all over the building. And while Anya wasn’t a witch or anything, she could use some of the spell books at the shop. She’d be okay. She _had_ to be okay. She….

The soft murmur of voices pulled him out of his thoughts. Spike was over by the creepy girl, talking to her. It. Whatever. The blood-filled construct thing seriously wigged him out, though not as much as it seemed to bother Spike. Which, yeah. It was like if there was a pizza following along with them, but it could talk and think and be uber-creepy. And his only other food source was sucking pizza out of his friends or Faith.

 _Okay, this analogy has gotten really weird,_ he thought, feeling vaguely uneasy. And kind of hungry. Speaking of which…. Xander shuddered and watched in horrified fascination as Spike pressed his face into the construct’s arm. Thank god the vampire had pretty good self-control, or there would have been a nummy helping of Xander on the breakfast menu. Not that he hadn’t been willing to donate if it had come to that – he would have lost some serious honorary uncle points if nothing else – but that was different from waking up to being gnawed on.

He was considering getting up and getting some food of his own when movement caught his attention. Faith was up, standing beside the blanket she’d been sharing with Tara, devil tail swaying gently behind her. Then she headed towards Spike. Xander’s whole body tensed, dread and worry building, but he knew how she moved when she was getting ready for a fight. It looked like maybe she just wanted to talk.

He still didn’t trust her any farther than he could throw her, though, and he couldn’t throw her at all. So he kept still and quiet, listening to what she had to say.

 

**...**

 

Oh god, it had been so long. Not since he’d had fresh, hot human straight from the tap – had a few ounces from Buffy every night, an amount even a normal human could handle losing that often – but was the first time in a long while that Spike had been able to take in as much as he wanted. Years since it had been a live human. Only one year since….

 _No guilt,_ he told himself fiercely. He’d done all he could to save that woman from Dru, hadn’t he? And drinking the blood from her corpse right before was likely what had kept Thursday alive and healthy when she’d been cut right out of him. It was what Ben always told him, and he’d know, right? Being a doc and all. Either way, he’d more than enough living people he’d killed to feel guilt over, no room for the girl what had already been dead.

And no room really for the others, at the moment, as the blood continued to fill his mouth. Pull and swallow. Pull and swallow. Take it all in. He felt strong and wild, like he could take on the whole bloody world, laughing the while as it burned. He lost himself in it for a bit, the giddy high of so much human blood.

He wasn’t so far gone in it all that he was completely unaware of his surroundings. He heard the quiet sounds of Faith walking towards him, felt it like an electric tingle as she drew nearer. Slayer. But not _his_ slayer. He pulled away from the construct, part of him relieved to be away from it and a part of him howling that it wasn’t done yet, no matter how much he’d drunk. He stared at the thing, and with its blood flowing through him, he didn’t see a disturbing thing wearing the form of a child. He saw prey. Prey that should run and scream and cry.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, pushing aside the predatory part of himself. Not trying to lock it away or any such rubbish – was an integral part of himself, after all – just getting it out of the driver’s seat for the nonce. Then he turned around to face Faith.

From what he’d seen of her, she tended to strut about, oozing sexuality and wearing a suit of self-confidence. Not far different from himself, honestly. But now, she looked closed-in and vulnerable. He wasn’t sure if it was an act or if the whole bloody situation – trapped in a strange dimension after her life had been upended by a plot to breed her like livestock – had finally driven her beyond her outer shell.

“So,” she asked as she leaned against the wall, “that any different with the soul?” She inclined her head towards the construct.

Figured it out then, had she? Not that he was hiding it or anything. Only one he’d ever tried that with was Angel and his crew, and the cat had ended up out of the bag on that trip. Was interesting, though, that she’d sussed things out.

“If I hadn’t the soul, I’d be disappointed it wasn’t real,” he answered quietly, keeping his gaze locked on the slayer. The energy of her seemed to buzz about them, calling out for him to come out and play, pit his strength against her. The human blood urged him towards it, but he held himself back. “What do you want?”

“Wow. Real cut to the chase kind of guy, huh?” Her stance shifted, that confidence a cloak pulled about her.

He shrugged and smirked. “Not much one for foreplay, me, unless there’s a point to it.”

She raised a brow at that, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to continue on. Then she sagged back against the wall, vulnerable again. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I want to come back from it, but… I don’t really know how. Angel just keeps saying that redemption is a journey. You can never reach the goal, but you have to keep on trying.”

That definitely sounded like Angel, the smarmy git with his fortune cookie “wisdom.” _How many roads must a man walk to gain redemption? All of ‘em and every day._ ‘Course, his answer worked if you had no bloody clue where the destination was.

“Redemption’s easy enough, really. All you’ve to do is really want it, and to truly repent for the evil you’ve done. That can take some time. But once you’re there….” He trailed off and shrugged. “The real journey with no end is working to make yourself the sort of person deserving of redemption, which none of us are. All sinners here, in one way or another. But redemption doesn’t care about deserving. Just about genuine remorse and a desire to change.”

She frowned slightly, absorbing his words. “So, what, I just have to feel bad about the people I killed? And _poof,_ all is magically forgiven? Somehow, I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“It’s not. You still have to work towards changing yourself. Admit to your wrongs.”

Faith was silent for a moment. “I’ve done that. The admitting thing. I killed innocent people. One time was an accident, but after that….” She shrugged uncomfortably. “Kinda went into a downward spiral. Did a lot of bad things to B.” That last was added grudgingly. “Like trying to kill her boyfriend and the, uh, whole body snatching thing.”

“There’s also what you did to Xander,” Spike pointed out when it seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything else. Did she even realize how she’d wronged the boy? Were a lot who wouldn’t. Those who had the same opinion as Captain Cardboard about the inability of a beautiful woman to rape a man.

She grimaced slightly. “Oh, yeah, that whole strangling thing. Not even sure I was going to go through with it, though I guess it scared him.”

“You tried to rape him,” he said bluntly. Also, she’d used him for sex like a cheap whore with no thought to his feelings, but while that was certainly a shitty move, it wasn’t technically evil. She just gave him a blank stare, as if she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “He said no, and he bloody well meant it.”

“Oh, come on, no guy actually ever _means_ no.”

He’d meant no when Buffy had come at him when they’d been influenced by the So’voriku fertility ritual for the first time. Not her fault, and he didn’t really consider her a rapist. But he’d also meant no most of the time when Angelus had wanted him. And Darla. Even sometimes with Dru. And Xander had meant no when Faith had tried to force herself on him. He’d told Spike of the entire thing, the fear and helplessness and disgust at himself for responding when he hadn’t wanted to. It was a shared trauma they’d bonded over.

“He meant it, and don’t you dare tell yourself otherwise.” He turned away from her and started back towards the bed. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and that ‘whole body snatching thing’? You raped both Buffy and Finn with that one. Something to think on. And if you can’t admit to any of that, then Angel was right. Redemption won’t be a place you can get to.”

It was, however, a place that _he_ had got to, no matter how unworthy. Parts of him still cried out that it wasn’t true, that he was forever stained with so much blood that he could never be forgiven. But God was vast enough to forgive even the likes of him, and as for those who were less than divine….

Xander was awake and watching him as Spike got back into the bed. There was no fear or mistrust in those eyes, though he did look a mite uncomfortable, probably from what he’d overheard. He also looked grateful.

There were those out there who’d been left bereft by his actions and would likely never forgive him for it, as was their right. But he’d friends who had, and that made him one of the luckiest people in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

Tara stared down at the book of enchanting lying open across her lap, the words of a spell hovering in her mind, waiting to be used. It was a simple little thing, just a chant and extension of will to enhance one’s own memory. It was one Willow had taught her, something her ex had used while studying. It was a use that had always sat wrong with her, since it gave a witch an unfair advantage.

Willow had claimed using the spell gave her more time to focus on things like fighting demons and vampires, so Tara had just kind of let it slide. She’d let a lot of things slide, and look at what had happened. _You were her girlfriend, not her keeper,_ she told herself firmly. Willow had been into magic before they had even met, and some of that magic use had gotten pretty dark.

Cursing a vampire, dabbling in altering people’s emotions, enforcing her will on others. Other things as well that had shown a distinct lack of respect for magic and consequences. It had all led up to her sucking up enough harmful energies to grow that demon arm and set her free of all inhibitions. Could something as simple as using the memory enhancing spell be a step along that road to hell?

“Acorn for your thoughts.”

Tara nearly dropped the book at the sound of Xander’s voice. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts, she’d kind of forgotten about everyone else. It had been a couple of hours now since they’d left the hunting cabin, using the blankets as packs to hold all of the grain and dried foods they could actually eat. Guilt prickled at the back of her mind over that, but they hadn’t had much choice. They’d been brought wherever they were against their will and didn’t know enough about the place to really find their own food. She didn’t like taking what wasn’t hers, but she was pragmatic when it came right down to it. Stealing was better than starving.

 _Those are the kind of thoughts that led Willow down her path._ She took a deep breath and forced the thoughts away, turned her attention back to Xander. He was patiently standing there in front of the log she was sitting on, holding out some kind of nut.

“That’s not an acorn.”

He stared down at it, then looked back at her. “Random dimension tree seed for your thoughts.”

Her lips twitched up into a slight smile at that, and she shifted over a little, patting the place beside her on the log. “Just thinking about magic,” she said quietly as he sat down. “And the ways it can all go wrong.”

“Worried about the spells in that book?”

“No.” She shook her head and gestured vaguely down at the page she’d been reading. “It’s just a bunch of enchantments that are more versatile than the ones I know. It also lists a lot of alternate methods and ingredients. That’s how I was able to make the warming bracelet for Spike.” She glanced towards the vampire, who had sprawled out in a patch of sunlight, boots beside him and swollen ankles propped up on a mossy rock. “It’s more energy efficient than the amulet and harder to lose.” She sighed and marked her place with one of the colored ribbons attached to the book before closing it. “The problem is, I really want to use a memory spell in case I lose the book, but I don’t know if I should.”

Xander had been hurt pretty badly by Willow’s actions. Not physically, but emotionally. His best friend since kindergarten had reduced him to an immature child and had forced him to abuse the woman he loved. Tara expected him to immediately insist she shouldn’t be playing with any kind of magic at all, but he just sat there in silence for a moment, clearly thinking it over.

“You have to weigh the pros and cons,” he finally said. “A memory spell doesn’t really seem all that bad. It can give you an unfair advantage in certain situations, I guess, but here, you’re just wanting to memorize some spells that can help people. What’s the worst that can happen here?” He looked at her expectantly, the question obviously not rhetorical.

Tara opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. She couldn’t really think of a down side to using the spell. “Well, there’s one bit in here where it tells how to enchant a ring to cause impotence. If you, Giles, or Spike get on my bad side….”

She shot him an impish little grin to show she was joking, but Xander didn’t seem the least bit worried.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said serenely. “Anya would avenge my potency, and she’s been in the vengeance biz for a hell of a long time.”

He looked sad suddenly, and she reached out to pat his shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Anya is smart and resourceful, so she’s probably fine. And we’re going to get home in plenty of time for the wedding…. If, if n-not,” she paused to slow down her speech and control the stutter, “I’m pretty sure that Anya is going to be understanding given the circumstances.”

Xander took a slow, deep breath and flashed her a smile in thanks, though he still seemed worried. “We’d better get home before then,” he said quietly, glancing towards Spike. “Buffy would be devastated if Aliena was born without her being there for it. And wandering around in a strange dimension doesn’t really seem like the best place to take care of an infant.” He shook his head suddenly. “But there’s no point in borrowing trouble that isn’t here yet. And there’s no point in worrying about things that aren’t an issue. You aren’t Willow. Are there going to be times when you mess up and do the wrong thing? Absolutely. It’s the nature of humanity. But you’re the type who learns from your mistakes and cares about the consequences of your actions. Trust your instincts.”

Then he patted her on the knee before getting up and poking through the food packs.

Trust her instincts? Easier said than done, but… he was right. There was no negative she could see to what she wanted to do. She took a deep breath, then quietly chanted the words to the memory spell.

 

**...**

 

“Adria, goddess of the lost, the path is murky, the woods are dense, darkness prevails. I beseech thee, bring the….” Willow trailed off, unable to bring herself to speak the last word of the spell.

It was a simple little spell, one that would be hard to mess up. Except… the first time she’d ever tried it, she’d messed it up big time. _That wasn’t my fault,_ she reminded herself. And it hadn’t been. Not really. A spell – someone else’s accidental spell to release a fear demon – had interfered. But it had preyed on her fear of failing with the magic, and she wasn’t exactly at her most confident about that right now.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Buffy demanded, breaking into Willow’s thoughts.

After several hours of walking through the woods, they’d found a little cabin and had decided to see if they could find any supplies. The only food available had been some dried mushrooms and herbs that, according to another simple little spell, weren’t safe. In using that spell, though, she’d tapped into the magic of the place, which had trace residue from another witch. A very familiar witch. Tara had been there at some point, working magic. And now it was time to find her and the others, but Willow wasn’t sure she could do it.

“I… Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I’m just… scared. I know it’s kind of stupid,” she flashed a nervous smile, “I mean, I did way bigger magic when I tried to tap into your power – but, um, this one…. It’s the one I did in the frat, with the fear demon.”

Something flickered in Buffy’s eyes, understanding and maybe even some compassion. It reminded her of how things used to be between them before the demon arm. _Before the whole weird fertility ritual pregnancy and the damn baby,_ a resentful little voice whispered in the back of her mind. Instead of shoving it down, she acknowledged the nasty thought and dark feeling. Everything had changed because of that ritual, and she’d hated it. Buffy had had love interests before, but the baby… the baby had taken up her attention in an entirely different way. Which was how it was supposed to be, but it had left Willow feeling jealous and unsure of her position as best friend.

“Willow….” Buffy started to lift her arm, like she was going to reach out to her, but let it drop with a sigh. “You can do this. You have control of your magic. It’s just yourself that you need control of.”

She started pacing, arms crossed over her chest and clutching at each other. This had to be hard for her, fighting whatever urges the ritual was stirring up to protect both Thursday and the other baby. Buffy turned to face her.

“Look, before, you got distracted. You didn’t know what you wanted and the demon was feeding your fear. Right now, you know what you want. You want to find Tara, who is probably with the others. So, find her. This is one spell where you know the consequences. Little lights will buzz at you and get annoyed if you don’t focus. Big whoop. Just do the damn spell already!”

As pep talks went, it wasn’t really all that great, but Willow felt oddly reassured. “Okay. Here goes. Adria, goddess of the lost, the path is murky, the woods are dense, darkness prevails. I beseech thee, bring the light.” A green speck of light blossomed into being, and she took a deep breath. This was where things had gone wrong before. But that had been then. This was now, and she could do this. “Lead me to Tara.”

The light just floated there for a moment. Then it took off towards the door. Towards Tara.

 

**...**

 

Pain and Spike were old mates, but that didn’t exactly make it a pleasant experience. Though it could be at times, like in the middle of a fight, when his blood was up and it was all about sensation. Or during other, even more enjoyable things. His thoughts drifted to Buffy, to the feel of her nails and teeth scoring his flesh. The kiss of one of her knives, slicing into him as he writhed, chained to whatever surface she’d seen fit. The feel of her hands –

Then he tripped over a sodding root, sending even more pain throbbing through his aching feet and back. Bloody hell! Would be bad no matter what, with all of the walking they’d been doing, but the boots that had come along with his currant getup weren’t exactly broken in just yet. He glowered down in the general direction of his feet, the pain proving the bloody – probably literally – things were there even if he couldn’t bloody well see them.

 _Just take a nip from the little girl, and it’ll fix you right up._ He glanced over towards the construct walking along beside him, swallowing hard as his mouth suddenly started watering. Wouldn’t do much for his back or the swelling in his feet and ankles – might even make that last bit worse, seeing as how it was due to his body retaining extra blood for the wee one’s development – but it could help the blisters heal a mite faster. Just pull her close and sink in his fangs, drawing in all that sweet, hot blood.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, struggling against the desire. This wasn’t like before, when he’d been too sodding squeamish about things because of how the construct looked. He didn’t need any blood right now, was still all full up from last night, wasn’t he? He just… _wanted_. Like an alcoholic lusting over a bottle of cheap gin.

Everything shook suddenly as some large _thing_ bursting up from the ground. It looked like a smaller version of the Rockbiter, if he’d been made of mud as well as stone and half melted in the microwave. The creature roared and lunged towards Faith, the one closest to it, and Spike’s blood craving was washed away for the moment in a wave of elation. Hadn’t had a good brawl since his tussle with the rogue slayer when they’d all woken up in the tower.

He flung himself towards the thing, aches and pains as forgotten as the blood construct. Unfortunately, the _cause_ of those aches and pains couldn’t really be forgotten or ignored. His movements were slower and more awkward, something that didn’t hinder him too much when fighting other vampires but could prove deadly – to Aliena if not necessarily himself – against a complete unknown.

 _Bloody buggering fuck!_ he thought in dismay as a huge, battering ram of an arm sailed his way. Everything seemed to slow, the arm moving through molasses while he was stuck in amber. And then Faith was suddenly there, determination, fear, and a wild joy all shining in her eyes as she took the blow with a sickening crunch. Time sped back up as she flew through the air and hit the ground in an unmoving heap. Alive. She was alive. His entire being was designed to hunt live humans, so he could tell, even with the distance now between them. The beast didn’t seem content to leave her that way, though, turning towards her limp form with an enraged snarl.

Even if she hadn’t just likely saved his child, there was no way Spike would have left her to the beast, not with his soul crying out against it. He charged forward, vaguely aware of Tara shouting something. And then, suddenly, he couldn’t move, held immobile. For a moment, he didn’t understand what had happened. Then he turned his head, one of the few movements left to him, to see Tara, her arm stretched out and her expression grim.

There was another roar from the mud monster, and Spike looked back in sick, powerless horror as the beast lifted one huge foot, ready to slam it down on Faith.


	13. Chapter 13

There had to be about a million other things Xander would rather be doing than rushing to save Faith, of all people. Poking at a weird rash. Suffering from magically induced super syphilis. Hell, even filing taxes would have been more enjoyable than the thought of rescuing someone who had used and abused him the way she had. Of course, it didn’t really matter what she’d done or what kind of person she was. All that mattered right now was what kind of person _he_ was. And he wasn’t the type to just stand around and twiddle his thumbs while someone was in danger, especially not after that someone had done something selfless.

That’s why he was running towards the downed slayer while colored lights – the magical version of fireworks – exploded loudly all around the head of the big, freaky rock monster. He crouched down beside Faith, but hesitated before grabbing her, construction site first aid training screaming through his head about the risk of neck or back injury. If he jostled her just wrong, she could end up paralyzed, if she wasn’t already.

One of the monster’s feet got a little too close for comfort as it stomped around and swatted at the lights, snapping Xander out of his dithering. _Right, okay, slayer. And one that came back from a coma once. What doesn’t kill her will just make her stronger. Probably._ He grabbed Faith by the shoulders and dragged her away behind a large, sturdy tree. Not exactly safety, but close enough, and probably the best opportunity to check her over for injuries.

She looked different unconscious. Even asleep at the cabin, she’d looked like she could wake up in a flash and shank you in the face just for existing. Now, though, she looked vulnerable, laying there with a nasty goose egg on the side of her head and an obviously broken arm. More human – despite the horns and spade-tipped devil tail – and less like the monster who had pinned him down while she rubbed against his traitorous body, eyes bright with lust as her hands closed around his throat, getting off on his panic and fear.

He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sick and aroused as the memories invaded his mind. God, he was messed up. _How we’re wired, innit?_ Spike’s voice drifted through his thoughts, the memory of one of their conversations starting to push aside everything else. _Pretty girl all over you, ‘course you’re going to respond to it. Body and self are two different things, though, yeah? Just because your pecker says yes doesn’t mean your self wants it._

A slow, deep breath, and Xander opened his eyes. Okay, so, his dick was a dumbass that got excited over remembering being violated. It could just go and do that and leave the rest of him alone to do what needed to be done. Namely, doing his best to make sure Faith got through this alive.

A glance back towards the monster showed that Tara had managed to get Spike farther away from it. One fighter down, and the other sidelined to protect the non-com on board. Their only hope was that Tara would be able to pull a feisty enough rabbit out of her magic hat. Or that the monster would just get bored and wander off, but Xander wasn’t going to hold his breath on that one.

Either way, there wasn’t really anything he could do about it other than trust Tara. He silently wished her luck and went back to doing what he could for Faith.

 

**...**

 

The magical self was a lot like the physical self in some ways. Constant practice could tone and build “muscle”, adding to what you could do and how easily. And just like with the body, some people had trouble with anything beyond toning while others easily bulked up like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Willow was like that, but Tara? Not so much. That didn’t mean she couldn’t build any kind of magical muscle, though, and she’d been doing a _lot_ of practice since taking over the UC Sunnydale Wicca group.

She was stronger now, able to hold and use more magic than ever before. The fireworks that would have drained her to uselessness a year or two ago weren’t exactly nothing, but she could keep them up just fine for at least twenty minutes, especially now that she wasn’t having to restrain Spike. He was standing beside her, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at the rock monster. It was hard on him, she knew, having to hold back when it came to a fight.

She needed to end this as quickly as she could, before anyone else got hurt or the stress of it all caused premature labor. Unfortunately, the best way to do that meant stopping her distraction long enough to gather the power she’d need. Her gaze traveled past Spike and locked onto the construct standing passively behind him. It had no more life or feelings than a piece of furniture, but if it ended up destroyed, there would go Spike’s food source.

“What are you thinking?” Spike asked, looking from her to the construct and back again. “Sending it off to distract the beastie while we all do a runner?”

“Close, but not exactly,” she answered quietly. “I might be able to destroy the monster if the construct can keep it distracted, but….” She trailed off uncomfortably, and he just stared at her for a moment, head tilted as he studied her in a way that screamed “predator”, even though she was pretty sure he didn’t think of her as prey. Probably. 

“No worries, pet. Filled up the tanks right proper last night, so we’ve a bit of time if the construct gets destroyed. Buffy’s on her way, and I’ve a feeling we’ll be able to get back home not long after.” He turned towards the construct. “You, go play tag with big an’ ugly over there. He’s it, so try not to get tagged.”

“Yes, sir,” it said before darting off towards the rock monster.

Once it had the monster’s attention, Tara let go of the spell keeping the fireworks going. First thing first, she _looked_ at the creature. She’d suspected it wasn’t a natural being, and she’d been right. It was a bunch of enchanted stone. One of the spells she’d memorized from the book had to do with dispelling other enchantments. If she could layer that over what was already there…. She took a deep, steadying breath and gathered up all of her personal magic while also opening herself up to the ambient energy of the place, taking nothing that wasn’t ready to be taken.

Then she bundled it all up together and channeled it through herself as she began to chant.

 

**...**

 

The little green light was zipping along, but to Buffy, it felt like it was crawling. The protective instinct bubbled inside of her, pushing at her to get to Thursday and Spike, to keep them safe and utterly destroy anything that might harm them. She agreed with the sentiment fully, but she refused to let it overwhelm her.

 _I’m in control,_ she told herself as she hurried after the floating light. _I’m doing this because_ I _want to do it. I want to find whoever did all this, rip out their spleen, and shove it up their nose. Me. I wanna do that, not the ritual._ Though it seemed to approve of the idea if the lessening of the pressure was anything to go by.

“Buffy.”

Before any spleen-nose action, though, she’d make sure Spike and Thursday were safe. Safety was way more important than revenge. She was seriously considering breaking out the fifty-pound bag of packing peanuts once she’d kissed Spike and sent them all home. Assuming the poem she and Willow had found had told the truth about the smooch-based return policy.

“Buffy!”

Some of the lines went through her head, the ones she’d focused on the most. _The Prince’s Demon and Princess fair…. When the Prince and lover share a kiss, it fixes all that is amiss._ That _did_ mean it would send them home if she kissed Spike, didn’t it? Them not being home was seriously of the amiss-y as far as she was concerned. And she was the Prince, with Spike as both her demon and her lover. Lover. Beloved. Partner. Father of their children.

“ _Buffy!_ ”

Even though there was nothing in front of her, Buffy smacked into what felt like a spongy wall and bounced back to fall on her butt in the dirt. Willow came to a stop beside her, bending slightly with her hand on her knee as she panted for breath.

“There’s… somethin–”

The witch was interrupted by the ground suddenly vibrating. _Earthquake!_ A lifetime of school drills had Buffy up on her feet, and scanning the area. _If you’re in the open, stay there. Get as far away from buildings and telephone poles as you can._ The woods weren’t exactly overflowing with either of those, but there were a hell of a lot of trees. They were swaying a lot and had dropped some leaves, but none of them looked like they were about to fall on her and Willow.

Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, senses on high alert for aftershocks. There was a sort of rumbling like the earth was settling, but nothing else. Willow had been trying to warn her. Was magic responsible for the quake? She opened her eyes and looked at Willow. She was staring off the way the light had been leading them, looking worried.

Before Buffy could ask what was going on, there were a bunch of loud noises, like someone was shooting off fireworks. She was off and running before she even decided to, heart hammering in fear. Whatever was going on had to involve Tara – which was bad enough – and that meant Thursday and Spike were likely there, too, in danger from whatever was going on.

She outpaced the guiding light, dodging at full slayer speed around foliage until she finally burst through the trees and into a clearing.

Just in time to see a giant rock monster bring a massive foot down on a small figure.


	14. Chapter 14

The blood wouldn’t stop. Buffy was vaguely aware of other people in the area, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the blood. She didn’t think rock monsters could bleed. It had to all be coming from the child it had just stomped on. But it was too much, and it just kept coming.

A little girl…. One of her little girls? No. No. It couldn’t be. The nightmare before her slayer dream had been just that. A nightmare. She and Willow hadn’t been trapped in the time loop for years while time went on without them. She hadn’t missed Aliena’s birth. She hadn’t missed a big chunk of her childhood or Thursday’s. No. No, no, no, no. One of her babies _wasn’t_ under the foot of a giant rock monster, bleeding out and bleeding out and bleeding out….

Oh god, why wouldn’t it _stop_? The blood just kept coming, spraying out from under the stone foot and soaking into the ground. Not even an adult human had that much blood in them, much less a child.

 _I’m in shock,_ she thought numbly. Had to be. She was experiencing the moment in super slow-mo or something and seeing way more blood than there really was. Blood from one of her little girls.

She felt too warm suddenly, and her mouth was too moist, like she was about to throw up. Why hadn’t the protective instinct kicked in, sending her down to destroy the monster who had murdered her baby? Did it know it was too late? Or maybe….

A familiar female voice shouted something, catching Buffy’s attention. Tara, standing off to the side next to…. _Oh, thank God_. Her knees felt weak, like they’d been turned into jello that was barely holding her up. Spike was there, and still very pregnant. She couldn’t have missed much time, which meant the poor dead kid wasn’t one of hers. She didn’t see Thursday anywhere, though. Maybe… maybe she was with Xander? He was a good honorary uncle, always looking out for his little niece Daysie. That had to be–

Her thoughts were interrupted by a ground shaking _thud_ as the monster collapsed into a pile of rocks and the impossible fountain of blood finally stopped. It hadn’t come from either of her daughters, but she had to know who had been under there. Who had died because she hadn’t gotten there in time to help.

 _You can’t be everywhere,_ Ben’s voice whispered in her mind. _Millions of tragedies, big and small, happen every second of every day. You do the best you can and no one, not even you, has the right to ask for more than that._ Whatever had happened, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t set any of this into motion, and she couldn’t have gotten there any faster than she had. _If I figured out the right direction to walk before–_

“Buffy!”

The voice calling her name got an instant response from her. She ran to Spike and had her arms around him before she even consciously decided to do it. Then she shifted into a side hug so she wasn’t squishing Aliena. Also so she could rest her hand on his belly, though not skin to skin like she preferred. He was wearing a dress for some reason – like the one in her dream – instead of the usual sweater and kilt.

“What happened here?” she asked. “I saw a kid….” She glanced towards the rocks and blood with a shudder.

“Just a construct, love,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “Naught but a walking, talking bag of blood.”

“I-it was dispelled at the same time as, as the monster,” Tara added, tripping over her words a little. She looked exhausted but triumphant. Also pretty stylish in the white and ice blue silk gown, though the earthy tones she favored suited her a little better. Still, though….

 _Focus, Buffy. Getting out of here now, fashion later._ She felt almost giddy, knowing it hadn’t been a living being she’d seen squished. Everything was good and right. They just had to go to wherever Xander and Thursday were, and then she could kiss Spike and send them all home.

She pulled away a little from Spike to get a better look at the area. She saw movement in the trees, followed a second later by Xander walking into the clearing with…. She stared in dismayed confusion. There was no Thursday. Where the hell was Thursday? Instead, a dazed and bleeding Faith was leaning against Xander, letting him support her as she limped along. Devil horns stuck out of her temples and she had a spade tipped tail.

“Buffy?” She was vaguely aware of Xander squinting at her as he said her name. “You’re a rat.”

“You know me, always gotta keep up with the latest trends.”

Okay, what the hell was going on here? Six people had been mentioned in the poem she and Willow had found at the start of it all. The two of them were the Prince and the Wizard. Based on what he was wearing, they’d been right about Xander being the jester, and Enchantress still seemed to fit Tara. That left the Prince’s Demon and Princess fair. Demon-y bits on Faith and a dress on Spike. Her demon and her princess.

Dizzying relief swept through her, almost as powerful as the realization that neither of her children had been smooshed. Thursday wasn’t here. She hadn’t been caught up in all of this, which meant she was probably safe at home. Home, where they’d be heading as soon as possible.

She’d just turned to kiss Spike when Willow finally caught up, setting everyone on edge.

 

**...**

 

Willow burst through the trees into a clearing and almost immediately felt like she was going to be sick. The green light she’d been following obediently zipped over to Tara, but Willow’s attention was locked on Xander. He’d been her best friend since kindergarten. They’d been through all kinds of highs and lows together. And now…. Now, he wouldn’t even give her the time of day, but was letting Faith – _Faith_ – drape all over him.

She clenched her fist as rage swirled up inside of her. It would be so _easy_. Just tap into her magic and blast Faith away into an oily stain. Then turn her power onto Xander, make him like her again. He’d be her friend again and always on her side. So. Easy. And Tara…. She shifted her gaze to the other witch, and what she saw hit her like a bucket of ice water, bringing her to her senses.

Those familiar blue eyes were full of sadness and wariness, while her body was tensed, ready to throw herself and her magic between Willow and everyone else. Like she was the villain. And she had been, the last time they had all really interacted with each other. She’d been the bad guy, using dark and twisted magics to control them all like puppets. And then she’d demanded that they forgive her, even planning to use more magic to force them to.

“Willow,” Tara said, her voice painfully neutral.

“What is this, some kind of stupid game?” Xander spat out, looking at her in utter disgust. “A real life RPG where you get to come to the rescue as… as Mickey Mouse from the Sorcerer’s Apprentice?”

“I….” She froze, not sure what to say or how to be believed.

“Did you think we’d just be so grateful that we’d instantly forgive you for everything you did? Well, it didn’t work. We rescued ourselves. We don’t nee–”

“Xander, she didn’t do this,” Buffy interrupted quietly. “It’s not really her style, and if it had been her, Spike would have been my demon, not Faith.”

Spike raised a brow at that, smirking. “Really now? Thought I _was_ your demon. Been stepping out on me, have you?”

Buffy just rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm, looking both exasperated and amused. It made Willow’s heart ache, watching them. Once, Spike had been the outcast in their group. Now she was.

 _And it was all my own doing,_ she admitted to herself. Just like Spike becoming part of things had been his, most of it done while he’d still been evil. He’d put aside the darkness within in order to remake himself while still somehow retaining the core of who he was. It was actually kind of impressive, and she wished she could do something like it. Shed her mistakes like a snake skin and just be _Willow_ again.

“There was this poem about me and Willow being rats on a wheel, never able to get to you guys,” Buffy explained. “It talked about a jester and an enchantress, and… uh, my demon and my princess. I thought it was talking about Spike and Thursday.”

Spike snorted at that. “Well, that certainly explains the get up, don’t it?”

Willow was only vaguely paying attention to him, though. Tara had an odd look on her face, like she’d figured something out but wasn’t sure if she should say anything yet. “You know who did this.”

“N-no.” Tara shook her head and backed away a few steps. “I mean…. I-it could be….” She trailed off, biting her lip as she looked around at everyone.

Willow opened her mouth to reassure her, but Spike beat her to it.

“Go on, love. What have you figured out?”

“Amy. It might have been Amy. She was a rat for three years, and now W-Willow and Buffy are rats. I don’t know how she would have gotten the power for all of this, though.”

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Okay, so we’re all fine.” She glanced at Faith. “Well, mostly fine.”

The other slayer gave a weak smirk. “Five by five, B. This is all just a scratch.”

“Right, anyway, we’re all fine, and we’ll figure out what to do about Amy or whoever once we’re home.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Xander asked, sounding less hostile now. Of course, that could have been just because he wasn’t talking to Willow.

Buffy smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. Not sure if we’ll all end up where we were before we ended up here or what, but let’s meet up at the Magic Box, okay?”

She turned to face Spike and pulled him close for a kiss. Then everything dissolved away.


	15. Chapter 15

Willow knew, even before she opened her eyes, that the kiss had worked. There were a lot of hints. The familiar feel of the bed in her room at her parents’ house. The fact that she didn’t feel like she had fur, a tail, and rat ears anymore. That was a pretty big clue, there. Even without any of that, though, she would have known. Her magic felt muffled, smothered and locked away by a thick layer of spells, her ability to reach out for more stunted and held back by the will of other witches.

It was maddening. It was an insult. A slap in the face…. It was a relief.

She’d had months of “you can’t do this, you can’t do that. This is the way it’s done,” and she’d felt stifled by it all. Like she was being treated like a child who didn’t know what she was doing and had to be kept from things for her own good. She had resented it. She’d felt like no one was being fair to her at all. She hadn’t _meant_ to hurt the people she cared about. Didn’t that count for something? Maybe it did, but did it actually change what she had done?

She turned onto her back and opened her eyes to gaze up at the ceiling. Her magic had been free in that other dimension. It had been glorious. All that power at hand, and she’d been able to resist the temptation to misuse it. Barely.

She lifted up her left arm, staring at the smooth stump. She’d lost it while using her magic to keep her friends safe. _That’s_ what her power was for. She’d always seen it as proof of her weakness. She hadn’t been able to keep herself safe. She’d failed, and only drawing in dark, tainted magic had made her feel anything like whole again. But that had been a lie. It hadn’t made her whole.

 _And maybe losing my arm didn’t make me broken._ Maybe… maybe it was proof of her strength? Of what she was able to sacrifice for others. She lowered her arm back onto the bed. Her magic was bound, and she was only allowed a trickle each day. She’d managed to figure out a few ways to make the most of the situation, but she was sure there was a lot more she could have learned by now.

She got up and started getting ready. She was done wallowing in self-pity and resentment. She was going to go back to England with no complaints, and she was going to learn what they had to teach her. All of the ethics and rules that would help her to be the kind of person who could be trusted with magic. She wasn’t anywhere near there yet. But she would be.

For now though, she’d head over to the Magic Box, like they had planned. Then she’d say her goodbyes.

 

**...**

 

Pain throbbed through every inch of her body as Faith forced herself up to her feet. She’d gone from leaning against Xander to curled up on a surprisingly comfy pile of mats in the training room at the Magic Box. Though they hadn’t been doing much for her injuries, no matter how comfy.

“I’ve had worse,” she mumbled to herself. And she had. That didn’t exactly make getting beat on by an ugly rock bitch any less painful. It had felt kind of good, though. Not the getting beat part. She had a thing for rough kink, but good old Rocky hadn’t even bothered with foreplay. No, the good part had been… well, doing something good.

By putting herself between the critter and Spike, she’d probably saved his kid’s life. It had felt better than all of the murder and mayhem she’d committed for the Mayor. She’d killed innocent people, including some poor schlub whose only “crime” had been studying volcanoes. But you didn’t get much more innocent than not even born yet, so maybe that balanced the scales, at least a little bit. Probably not.

Her scales were way tipped to the bad. All that murder and mayhem she’d been thinking about. That stuff with Xander…. Spike’s words played through her mind. She’d figured Xander was just like all the other guys, only into her for her body. She’d been kind of disappointed in him. She’d thought he was different, and then…. But what if she’d been right all along, and the reason he’d slept with her that first time had because he thought it meant something? What if his no had really meant no the second time?

She really didn’t want to think it about yet. Maybe ever. She took a slow, deep breath to clear her mind, wincing as things were jostled and pulled. She was healing, but it wasn’t instant, and she needed to start stretching if she didn’t want stiffness to set in. She was a badass babe with superpowers. She could handle pain. Self-reflection? Not so much, but her and pain? They were tight, yo. She could deal.

And speaking of dealing…. She put herself through a few stretches and slow warm up moves before heading towards the door that led to the main part of the shop. She opened it a crack and peered through, revealing pretty much a full house. Giles and Xander’s girl. Those witches who were apparently Willow’s keepers. Joyce and Dawn with Buffy’s kid. Even Rat Girl was there, hugging herself and looking miserable. Every inch of her practically screamed guilt and the expectation of punishment.

Faith kind of felt for her. She’d been a rat for three years and had apparently lashed out because of it. People did stupid things when they were hurt and confused. Once all the Wolfram & Hart bullshit was dealt with, maybe they could go on a road trip together. Badass babes putting the hurt on evil in a quest for redemption. She liked the sound of that. Assuming, of course, that she didn’t end up right back in prison as part of dealing with W & H. They’d have to see how that all shook out before making any plans.

She opened the door all the way and stepped through, catching the attention of the gathered group.

“Faith!” Giles called out, taking a step towards her. Then he stopped, actually looking concerned. “Good lord, are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” she said, glancing down at the floor. Concern wasn’t really something she was all that comfortable with. “The others should be here soon,” she added, hoping to distract from herself. At least, she was pretty sure they would be. She couldn’t have been the only one to get home.

“Does that include Xander?” his girl – Anya? – demanded, coming around from behind the counter to shove herself into Faith’s personal space. “Is he okay?”

“Um, yeah, he’s fi–”

She was interrupted by the phone ringing. Giles answered it, grinning suddenly in relief after his greeting. “Buffy.”

Tension Faith hadn’t even realized she was feeling suddenly drained away. If she and Buffy had both made it, then everyone else probably had, too. Everything was going to be just fine.

Then Giles’s grin turned into a frown, and based on his part of the conversation, things were far from fine.

 

**...**

 

One moment, Buffy had been kissing him, tail and arms wrapped possessively around his body as her tongue thrust past his parted lips, boldly exploring what had long been declared her territory. The next, Spike found himself back in their bed, cuddled up with his slayer. Bit disorienting, it was, but definitely a good thing. He closed his eyes, basking in the feel of her warm, naked body against his. She definitely wasn’t a rat person any longer, and the odd clothes they’d been wearing seemed to have vanished. Could still feel the warming bracelet Tara had made for him, though, circled firmly ‘round his right wrist.

“It worked,” Buffy said quietly. He opened his eyes to gaze at her, his beautiful woman, practically glowing with triumph. “We’re home.”

“That we are, love, that we are.” But it wasn’t all puppies and Christmas just yet. Not until he’d seen Thursday. “Gonna check on the sprog.”

He struggled up out of the bed, ignoring the protest from his back and hips as he hurried towards the door. At the last minute, he remembered to grab one of the robes hanging from a hook on the door and put it on before going out into the hall. Didn’t want to risk flashing Dawn if the girl was up and about, after all.

There was neither sight nor fresh scent of either Dawn or Joyce as Spike walked the short distance to the nursery, but he barely noticed it. Naught but a little trickle of information in the back of his mind. One that was completely forgotten when he opened the door to find an empty crib. Oh god, no. No, it couldn’t….

He was vaguely aware of the sound of the crib rail cracking as he grabbed it, peering into the corners as if they could somehow hide an entire one-year-old. No trace of Thursday, and her scent was several hours old. He’d been so sure that she was safe at home. So bloody sure, but of course he’d been wrong. She’d been somewhere in that other world. Alone and scared and probably starving. Waiting for them to rescue her. But they’d just _left_ her there. His baby girl. She was…. She…. He’d just….

A strange sensation flashed through him, a sort of pinching, cramping feeling somewhere in his abdomen. What was…? Oh god, no. Couldn’t be. Calm, calm. Had to be calm. Slow, even breaths. _Bloody hell!_ Another pinching cramp, along with sudden lightheadedness. His knees gave out, dropping him down to the floor in a huddled heap.

Thursday was gone. She was gone, and it was all his fault. He’d lost her. And now Aliena was trying to come early. Much too early. Slaypire or not, it was too soon. Her lungs wouldn’t be developed enough. He tried desperately to think of all the things he’d read about stopping premature labor, but none of them had really seemed to apply to a male vampire. IV fluids, doing things to relax the uterus. He choked back an hysterical laugh. He didn’t bloody _have_ one of those. Couldn’t very well relax the sodding thing if it didn’t exist. Just a sort of purple ball of energy or somesuch that he could feel her moving about in.

Calm, calm, calm. If he could just bloody well calm down, maybe…. No use. He’d buggered things up right proper, and now both his girls were going to die.


	16. Chapter 16

Buffy clutched at the door frame of the nursery, staring blankly as Spike rushed over to the crib. She could see from there that it was empty. Their little girl was missing. For a panicked moment, she thought maybe she’d been wrong and Thursday had been in the other world, but that didn’t make any sense. Why not include her in the poem if she was there? But if not there, then where was she?

_Mom,_ Buffy thought suddenly. She didn’t know for sure how long they’d been gone, but it was a lot later in the day than when they’d probably been taken. Mom wouldn’t have just left Thursday in her crib.

“I’m going to check downstairs,” she said.

She wasn’t sure if Spike had actually heard her – he wasn’t reacting – but figuring out where Thursday was would help more than repeating herself. With that in mind, she turned and bolted for the stairs, nearly tripping over the hem of her robe as she ran down them. No sign of Mom or Dawn, and still no Thursday. Okay, so, they had to have noticed that she and Spike had vanished. What would they have done in that situation? _The Magic Box._ She snatched up the cordless phone and punched in the number.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she chanted as she headed back towards the stairs, waiting for someone to pick up. Someone _had_ to be there. Anya, Giles, one of the Wicca group working a shift. _Someone._ After what felt like a million years – but didn’t even take long enough for her to go up a couple of steps – Giles picked up.

“You’ve reached the Magic Box, how may I help you?”

“Is Thursday there?”

“Buffy.” The relief in his voice was a good sign, but she wasn’t going to just assume, she needed to know. Before she could say as much, he went on. “Um, yes, Thursday is here, along with your mother and Dawn. And Faith has reappeared. Are you alright?”

Oh thank God. Buffy’s knees went a little weak, and she grabbed at the railing to keep herself upright. Thursday was safe. And if Faith was back, then the others probably were, too.

“Yeah,” she said, her mouth stretching out into a goofy grin. She felt bubbly. They should have a pizza party or something to celebrate. Even invite Faith and Willow. “Yeah, we’re fi–”

There was a thump from the nursery, like someone falling to the floor. Buffy leaped up the rest of the stairs, her good mood washed away with fresh worry. Spike was on the floor, arms wrapped around himself as he panted for air he didn’t really need.

“Spike!” She dropped down beside him, the phone falling to the floor. She was only vaguely aware of the muffled sound of her name being called through the speaker. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Ben,” he gasped out. “Ring him up. Don’t… don’t think I can stop this….”

Stop this? Stop _what_? What was he talking about? Then the pieces clicked into place, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Oh, no, no, no. No, this couldn’t…. She grabbed the phone back up.

“Call Ben! Call the Wicca group, too, anyone who might be able to help. I think the baby is trying to come early.” Then she hung up and pulled Spike into her arms. “Thursday is okay. She’s safe with Mom. She’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

She was babbling. Babbling wasn’t going to help. She could feel the effects of the So’voriku ritual stirring inside of her. Stupid ritual. It was supposed to do everything it could to help them have a healthy baby. It could get a dead guy pregnant and turn her into a raging psycho, but it couldn’t do anything to prevent premature labor? Wait, maybe… maybe…. She remembered something Tara had told her. When Dru had cut Thursday out, it had torn up his aura and confused the ritual. Buffy just being with him had helped with it. Could it help now, her half of the ritual strengthening his and keeping Aliena where she belonged?

Spike made a pained sound and curled in on himself, pulling her out of her thoughts. She shoved her hand into his robe and pressed her hand against his belly, petting him in the hope that skin-to-skin contact would help. She could feel something, like things were shifting around inside of him. Not good. Seriously of the not good.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered. “Stay in the oven. You aren’t done cooking yet.” She tried to remind herself that Sunnydale had really good hospitals that could take care of a preemie. It was going to be okay. No matter what, it was all going to be okay. “It’s okay. Calm thoughts, Spike. Puppies and kittens. We’ll get you a puppy after all this. Or a kitten. Or a puppy-kitten demon hybrid thingy. Something cute and fluffy.”

She was babbling again, but that and the petting actually seemed to be doing something. There was a tingling sensation in her hand, and Spike suddenly went limp against her. He was still breathing, though, so he was at least conscious enough for that. The weird movements seemed to be easing, too.

Her mind drifted back to another time when she’d been holding Spike during a crisis. It had been during the first week when he’d been carrying Thursday, and she’d accidentally sent him into a panic attack after he’d nearly died from not getting the human blood he’d needed. Her touch, skin-to-skin, had had a calming effect. Had that been the ritual at work? Taking her desire to help him and the baby and actually doing something about it? Huh. That was….

The phone rang, and she immediately scooped it up with her free hand. “Hello?”

“Buffy.” Ben. Thank God. “I’m on my way with a sedative that should help. Keep Spike as warm and relaxed as you can until I get there.”

“Yeah, um, alright. I-I can do that.” Her voice was shaky and sounded young, everything catching up with her now that there was someone who knew what to do.

“Thursday’s okay?” Spike asked hoarsely once she’d said goodbye and hung up. “She’s…?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath and pressed her face into his hair for a moment. “She’s with Mom. What about you? Are you okay?”

“Just fi–” He broke off with a hiss and a wince. “Fine. Cramps, but they’re not as bad.”

She nodded jerkily and took another deep breath. Had to stay calm to help him be calm. “Ben’s on his way. We’re going to get you into the tub while we wait, okay?”

He managed a weak little smirk for her and a raised brow. “Packing peanuts and bubble wrap then, is it?”

“Hot water and bubble bath,” she said, trying for a smile of her own. “This time.”

Then she helped him to his feet and led him towards the bathroom, praying that it was all going to work.

 

**...**

 

Summer storms and wildflowers. Earth and spice. The sweet overlay of something innocent and young. Spike let his eyes drift closed as he breathed in Thursday’s scent. She was warm and alive and right where she belonged. In his arms. He nuzzled the soft cloud of her hair, then opened his eyes to glance at the people filling the living room.

Ben had come and gone, having him drink a thermos of sedative-laced human blood before insisting on at least a week of bed rest. Luckily, it had been agreed that the couch counted, as long as he allowed Buffy to help him up and down the stairs when he wanted to change locations. No doubt the restrictions would start to chafe within a few days, but for the nonce, he’d willingly walk over bloody hot coals or through a pool of holy water if it meant keeping Aliena from staging another breakout attempt.

Ensconced in a nest of pillows and heating pads on the couch was quite a bit more pleasant than all that, especially with Thursday cuddled up against him. Poor little mite was all tuckered out from a terrifying day without her mum and dad. He carefully shifted the sleeping girl so she was under the quilt covering him. A thing of beauty it was, both in looks and sentiment.

As soon as Tara’s group of witches had heard what was going on with him, they’d met up for a three-hour marathon of sewing and magic, crafting a charm quilt in a soothing collection of blues and greens. Was meant to promote health and wellbeing and to reduce stress. It seemed to be working, though some of that could have been the remnants of Ben’s sedative. Like him, the witches had come and gone, leaving only Bethany to represent them. Along with Tara, of course.

Everyone else had gathered at the Magic Box as planned, but Buffy had refused to leave his side. She’d wanted to postpone things for a few days until he’d pointed out that leaving it all unresolved would be even more stressful. That’s why they were all gathered in the Summers living room – leaving off only Willow’s guards – listening to Amy’s halting explanation of what had happened.

Poor chit. Maybe it was the sedatives or the effects of the charm quilt, but he felt for the girl. Couldn’t be pleasant, finding out you’d been stuck as a rat for three years. Was the sort of thing that anyone would piss and moan about, honestly, which was all she had really done. Not her fault the wrong person had offered an ear.

“Are… are you going to turn me back into a rat?” she asked, huddling in on herself and glancing about like she was prey in a room full of predators.

“It _would_ keep you from making foolish wishes,” Anya pointed out, though not as if she thought it was a particularly good idea.

“Her magic could be bound,” Willow suggested, “but….”

“Sh-she didn’t actually misuse magic,” Tara finished for her. She looked over at the redhead, then away, taking a step closer to Bethany.

“Does anything _have_ to be done?” Spike found himself asking. He still felt a bit floaty, and couldn’t seem to really care one way or another. Mayhaps that made him the best one to offer up a suggestion of her fate. “She got drunk and bitched about the world not giving her a fair shake. Who _hasn’t_ done that a time or two?” Dawn, sitting cross-legged on the table, immediately lifted up her arm. Spike’s mouth twitched up into an amused smile. “Other than the Nibblet, of course, and Thursday.”

Fatigue tugged at him, trying to drag him under. Well, he’d put in his two cents, hadn’t he? They could sort out the rest without him. He snuggled down more until the pillows and warmth, cuddling his little girl. Then Buffy was there, tucking them in as he drifted off to sleep.

 

**...**

 

There was a part of Willow that wanted to stomp its foot and whine about things not being fair. It was though. Spike was absolutely right about Amy. Other than unknowingly using the W word around a vengeance demon, she hadn’t done anything wrong. And since it _had_ been unknowing, it was the kind of thing that could have happened to anyone. It hadn’t really been any worse than when Willow herself had cast the Will Be Done spell.

Actually, scratch that. There really wasn’t any comparison there. While she hadn’t meant to do any of those nasty things to her friends, it had been a dangerous, selfish spell that had led to her being offered a job as a vengeance demon. She’d messed up spells before then, but that had been the first time her own thoughts and words and been used to directly cause her friends harm.

Well, maybe it actually _was_ a good comparison with what Amy had done. They’d let her off the hook with just some cookies and chores because they’d known it had been a mistake. She’d just thought she was lashing out with words, not magic.

“I agree with Spike,” she said quietly.

Not that her opinion was likely to have much weight. Spike’s would, though, especially with what had almost happened with the baby. The vengeance wish hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park for any of them, but he’d been harmed by it the most. If he was prepared to let it go, then it probably would be. Willow stating her agreement was really just a way to say that she wasn’t going to argue.

Buffy sighed and stood up from where she’d been crouched beside the couch, tending to her vampire. “If anything really bad had happened to either of the kids, you’d probably be a red smear across the wall,” she admitted, looking right at Amy. The former rat paled and swallowed hard, looking terrified. “I wouldn’t have been able to help it. But…. Yeah, you didn’t do any of this on purpose, and because of you, Mom was able to make the wish that let us escape. So…. No being turned back into a rat, and no getting your magic bound. Might be a good idea to leave town, though.”

Amy opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying and failing to find something to say. Then she flinched a little as Faith walked over and slung an arm over her shoulder.

“Sucks, I know,” the rogue slayer said. “Something takes you out of commission, but the world keeps turning. Then you come back, and your place just isn’t there anymore.”

Amy nodded shakily. “Feels like there’s nothing really here for me.”

“Once the Watchers get Wolfram & Hart off my back, I’m thinking of heading to Cleveland. I’ve heard there’s a Hellmouth there. Thought I might give the respectable slayer thing another try. Wanna come with? I could use a spellslinger on my side.”

Okay, so, that was that, apparently. Willow glanced around, feeling awkward and alone now that things seemed to be more or less settled. Everyone was in their own groups. Faith and Amy. Giles and Buffy’s mom. Dawn with Tara and a young woman who was apparently part of the Wicca group. Buffy was on her knees beside the couch, stroking Spike’s hair while she watched him sleep. And then there was Xander, deep in conversation with Anya.

Willow kind of wanted to slink away, but she also kind of wanted to talk to Xander. Tara… she was pretty sure she had lost Tara forever. It hurt, an ache in her heart that kind of made her feel like she was going to throw up, but the thought of losing Xander for good was like having her arm maimed all over again. If nothing else…. She swallowed back a sob. If nothing else, she wanted to say goodbye to him before she had to go back to England, and she didn’t know when she’d have another chance.

She took a deep breath and started towards him. Anya glanced over at her, then handed Xander something before gently pushing him in her direction. What? Why would Anya be encouraging him to talk to her? _Probably wants him to tell me to go to hell,_ she thought glumly.

“Um, hey,” he said, apparently feeling as awkward as she did. “Look, Wills….” He sighed. “You really, really messed up. What you did to all of us…. It was sick. You… you’re sick.”

Willow winced and looked down at her feet. Yeah, she really should have gone with the slinking away option.

“But you’re trying to get better, and that means something. Especially to someone like Anya.” She looked up at him, startled. Anya? Was he trying to say Anya had sent him over for some kind of reconciliation? It didn’t fit with the general impression she’d always had of the former vengeance demon. “She’s a lot more caring than you’ve ever given her credit for, and she wants you to have this.” He held out a square of heavy, white card stock. “And I guess I do, too.”

She stared down at it, the tears in her eyes blurring the fancy silver script spelling out the words to a wedding invitation. “I….” She had to swallow past a sudden clog in her throat. “I’ll have to get permission, but….” She swallowed again. “I’ll be there.”

He nodded, still awkward with her, then turned and walked away.

Willow looked around the room again. She’d destroyed the lives of most of these people, and they’d rebuilt without her. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be woven back in. It wouldn’t be the same pattern as before, but she could be a part of things again. If she worked hard enough and fixed the problems with herself. Her gaze landed on Spike. He’d done it. Improved himself and made a place where he belonged. And by taking her calls, he’d been trying to help her do the same. She was going to take him up on it, instead of just whining about how no one was forgiving her fast enough.

She turned and strode out of the house, heading for the Magic Box where her two escorts were waiting. She was going to ask to cut this trip short so they could go back to England. She had a lot of work to do.


	17. Epilogue

Xander tugged at his suit jacket, trying not to fidget. He felt giddy and nervous and kind of like he was about to blow chunks all over his nice dress shoes. _You’re not ready for this!_ a voice screamed in his mind, insisting this was all grownup stuff, and he was still just a kid. He should be playing with action figures and mud or something, not about to get married.

“It’s gonna turn out alright,” Spike said quietly from beside him. They were up at the front with the minister and Anya’s bride’s maids. Buffy, Dawn, and Tara, all wearing the same radioactive green dresses. “If there are any old lovers waiting about to declare their undying love for your girl, she’s like to kick them right in the goolies if they interrupt the ceremony. “

That got a small laugh out of a Xander and eased some of the tension. “I’m not actually worried about that, since this isn’t one of your soaps.”

Though it could have been just as bad as one if his relatives had been invited. His father probably would have been drunk by now and picking fights while Uncle Rory hit on all of the women. So far, the only real disruption had been some weird old guy showing up, but he’d been sent on his way pretty easily. Well, that and Thursday trying to open up the present D’Hoffryn had brought so she could play with – or eat – the tentacle monster thing inside. That had been a lot cuter than if it had been one of his adult cousins.

He took a deep breath and looked out at the people gathered together in the Sunnydale Bison Lodge for the wedding. D’Hoffryn and Halfrek were in the folding chairs on Anya’s side, along with half of the Wicca group and a loose-skinned demon who was apparently a friend of both her and Spike.

Giles and Joyce were on Xander’s side, Buffy’s mom sitting in the back so she could slip out with Aliena if the baby started crying. Already two months old after staying in for the full term, mostly thanks to Tara and Ben. The doc himself was there, along with the other half of the witches. And then there was Willow, sitting near the back with an odd little smile, like she couldn’t quite decide if she was happy or sad.

He was glad she’d come. He hadn’t really been sure about it when he’d given her the invitation, but she’d come a long way in the past four months. He’d started taking her calls, talking about life here in Sunnydale and listening to all of the things she was learning, both about magic and herself. Things were different now between them. _He_ was different now, just as much as she was. But that was okay. It was what life was. Things changed. People changed. They grew and shrank, sometimes both at the same time.

And now it was time for another change. One that, comparatively, wasn’t really all that big. He and Anya already loved each other. Getting married wasn’t going to change that. They already lived together, which wasn’t going to change either. Filing taxes would change, he guessed. But other than that, it was just a ceremony to announce to the world that he and Anya loved each other and wanted to be together for the rest of their lives.

Thinking about it that way helped ease more of the tension. Though as things started up, he still had the lurking worry that he was going to mess up and make an idiot of himself. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to that. What if he flubbed his vows? Or farted during the kiss? Or….

Daysie started toddling down the aisle between the folding chairs in her cute little white and green dress. She clutched a little basket in one hand, using the other to drop daisy petals onto the floor when she remembered and wasn’t shoving them into her mouth.

_We picked a sixteen-month-old baby as our flower girl,_ he pointed out to himself, unable to keep from smiling. _We planned things out to be joyful, not necessarily solemn. It’s going to be okay._

Then the munchkin had scampered over to her daddy, and Anya was walking towards Xander, driving all thoughts from his head. God, she was so… she was so beautiful.

“Alexander Harris and Anya Jenkins,” the minister began once she had taken her place beside him, “today you celebrate one of life’s greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauties of love, as you join together in the vows of marriage.” He turned towards Xander. “Alexander, do you take Anya to be your wife?”

“I….” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I do.”

Anya practically glowed as he said the words, her eyes shining with emotion. He was only vaguely aware of the minister still talking, things about promising to protect, love, and cherish. A discreet tap of Spike’s foot against his caught his attention in time to say his next part.

“I do.”

And then it was Anya’s turn for her “I do”s.

Vows and rings and a kiss. He didn’t know what life was going to throw at any of them, but they would get through it all. Demons, ex-demons, witches, ordinary humans, and slayers and slaypires. All of them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Aliena's birth will be getting its own story. The wedding seemed like the perfect end note to this one, while Aliena's birth deserves more time, care, and delving into emotion than it would get tacked on to the end here. Thank you all for reading.


End file.
